


Falling Away With You

by matty_macgregor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Top James, nsfwjeithweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-23 18:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18555565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matty_macgregor/pseuds/matty_macgregor
Summary: Keith should have fallen on his sword. Honour dictated he takes his own life rather than suffer the humiliation of defeat. It was too later, however. He didn’t have a sword or anything to fall on anymore. He wanted to believe he would do it, if only he could get his hand on a blade. His whole beingyearnedwith the need to believe. But he knew himself, knew his will to live. Dying meant escape. Dying also meant no chance of fighting another day. Dying was too… definitive to his liking.





	1. Bath/Shower

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Welcome to the humble fic I decided to write for the NSFW Jeith Week! The seven prompts will form one full fic of seven chapters. The universe is based on the AMC series _Into the Badlands_. Most of the details and backstories are kept purposefully vague so as not to distract from the real reason we want to read this fic: the porn!
> 
> Please keep in mind while reading that English is not my first language and that nobody proofread this fic.
> 
> Enjoy!

Keith should have fallen on his sword. Honour dictated he takes his own life rather than suffer the humiliation of defeat. It was too later, however. He didn’t have a sword or anything to fall on anymore. He wanted to believe he would do it, if only he could get his hand on a blade. His whole being _yearned_ with the need to believe. But he knew himself, knew his will to live. Dying meant escape. Dying also meant no chance of fighting another day. Dying was too… definitive to his liking.

So instead of ending his life, he knelt in the mud of the battlefield. The rain fell relentlessly on his head, seemingly intent on forcing him to bow lower. It drummed hard on the mire, puddles already forming. All around him, the silence of death reigned. It was an eerie silence, not yet broken by the birds of prey that would soon feast upon the dead. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at the ruined bodies of his comrades, his brothers-at-arms.

A hand roughly grabbed his hair and pushed him further down. His face crashed into the cold mud. Water seeped into his mouth and nose, and he had to make a conscious effort not to inhale it. The grip tightened enough to make his scalp burn. He gritted his teeth. Silence—he had to endure in silence. They had managed to survive this long because they could keep their mouths closed.

It was difficult however, especially when he was hauled up again, his head tilted back so he could see the faces of the victors. Mud caked his skin, running in disgusting globs down his jaw. He was dirty, filthy after days on the run with little time to eat or sleep, let alone wash. His clothes stuck to his body with old sweat and dried blood. He didn’t want to be seen like that, brought low after having been so high.

His muscles tensed, ready for flight or fight. The fingers in his hair twisted painfully. He exhaled sharply through his nose once, the only outward sign that he was in pain. This was nothing, he’d known worse.

People were talking around him, people more important than him deciding the fate of their barony. They’d rebelled against Baron Zarkon, had sown trouble all over the land. They hadn’t made a single friend over the years. Other baronies had joined them at first, years ago, back when he’d been too young to notice such things. Altea and Atlas and Olkari, they’d tried fighting back the Daibazaal Barony. One by one they’d grown tired or scared and had pulled back, leaving the Marmora Barony to fend for itself.

Now they were all allied against them. Today they were reaping the fruit of their victory. They had brought down that one rebel barony. Its people would be enslaved, its leaders put to the sword, its walls torn down.

They talked and they talked and he heard nothing. His blood drummed in his ears. He was exhausted beyond endurance. The cold mud was starting to look comfortable, attractive. He wished they’d get it over with; his head was already tilted back so why weren’t they cutting his throat? Did they want to humiliate him further?

In front of him were arrayed the most prominent people from each barony; Zarkon from Daibazaal, Iverson from Atlas, and Allura from Altea. Those three were the major baronies, those with the most influence over the land, the others being either subsidiaries or downright colonies. Marmora had been a colony of Daibazaal, trying to slowly distance itself from its demanding master. Rebellion had exploded ten years ago and was coming to its bloody conclusion today.

Being on the losing side sucked.

The blur of fatigue and dismay that had fogged his mind lifted, leaving him clear-headed for the first time in days. He saw it clearly now, how the remaining rebels had been arrayed in front of the victors. The civilians were all safe back inside the compound that would surely be raided the minute the nasty business here was done. In the meantime, the soldiers were awaiting their fate, kneeling in the mud like animals awaiting slaughter.

Hell, being a dumb cow would actually be safer—everybody had need for a cow. Nobody had need for a rebel.

The sword didn’t fall. The rain kept falling. His heart kept plummeting lower and lower until it surely had to reach the other side of the world. But the blow didn’t fall. His throat remained untouched, uncut. His blood remained in his body. His life remained his.

They were discussing, he realised. He’d purposefully been avoiding looking at the victors lest he throw up in his mouth in disgust. He could no longer avoid it. His treacherous eyes fell on those who would decide his fate. And they were discussing. This was something he had never understood, why people felt the need to discuss everything before acting. The situation seemed pretty straightforward to him; get rid of the nuisance. What was there to talk about? The manner of the killing?

He didn’t like it, however. Something in their demeanour; there was no violence there. He didn’t sense his death and that of his brethren in them. What was going on? Were they to be taken prisoners? If so, for what purpose? Prisoners had never been captured during the rebellion. There had simply never been enough rations and shelter to take care of captives. He didn’t want to be made a prisoner, anyway. He’d rather be executed cleanly, like a warrior.

And yet, and yet, hadn’t his need for life prevented him from falling on his sword?

His neck hurt from being bent at that uncomfortable angle. Rain pattered down on his face, washing away the mud. He was soaked through, shaking with cold and with the departing adrenaline. He was thirsty and hungry. Living seemed so bothersome right now.

Finally, a few people detached themselves from the group. They took a couple of steps towards the losers kneeling in the mud. Judging by the white and orange colours of their garbs, they were from the Atlas barony.

He knew one of them, would recognize that black and white hair everywhere. His heart sank. He tried to pull from the punishing grip on his hair that only tightened. He looked away quickly, swallowing convulsively. No, no, he didn’t want mercy, not from an old friend, not from someone he’d looked up to.

“We’re taking prisoners,” Takashi Shirogane declared.

He had a good voice, the voice of a commander. It rang loud around the dead battlefield without his needing to shout.

“What?” the Daibazaal man holding him hissed.

“We’re taking prisoners. We ambushed them. We won the war. We are entitled to spoils.”

Shiro sounded so cold, so unlike himself. What had the war done to him? What had betrayal done to him?

There came more words, more talking. He kept shivering, his teeth chattering, his muscles cramping. The world went blurry and dark around the edges. He would have fallen flat to his face if not for the hold on his hair.

And then the grip relented. His spine stiffened in an attempt to keep him standing upright. Pride alone strengthened his muscles. He wouldn’t humiliate himself further. All around him came shouts of dismay. The victors were walking amongst the losers. He turned with difficulty, eyes widening. His warriors were being inspected, either accepted or rejected. He saw his sister Acxa being hauled to her feet and dragged away, her broken limbs making it impossible for her to fight. She twisted and turned feebly nonetheless, a fighter to the end.

“Acxa,” he whispered. He had to get up, had to help her.

But then someone was seizing his arm and pulling him to his feet roughly. He’d been kneeling for so long that his legs could hardly support him. Blood rushed to his cramping muscles, making him grit his teeth in pain.

A young man was holding him up, a guy around his age. He’d seen him before though he couldn’t remember where.

“If you don’t come with me, they’ll kill you,” he said.

He had no idea where Acxa had been dragged off to. He had no idea where his mother or Kolivan were. All he knew for certain was that, if he died here, he’d never be able to help anyone.

He nodded.

-

They made him walk back to the Atlas barony. A rope had been wrapped around his wrists, its other end tied securely to the saddle of a horse his captor rode. He was the only one taken prisoner. Nobody talked to him, not even Shiro who rode ahead next to his baron, as was his right as regent. He’d barely spared him a look, his grey eyes unreadable.

By then pure pride and anger and resentment kept him walking. He could no longer feel his legs. Although it had stopped raining, a thin, cold mist covered the land like a grey pall. He was miserable. He’d been given a few sips of water, the bare minimum so he wouldn’t drop dead on the road. He saw nothing of the countryside. At night he was carefully tied to a tree so he wouldn’t try running. He hadn’t considered it, not yet. Running would be stupid; he had nowhere to go.

They reached Baron Iverson’s compound the third morning after the final battle. Like an omen, the sun rose gently above the small, walled town, bathing it in golden rays. The curtain wall was made of old shipping containers that had survived hundreds of years of wars and the near death of the human population. It guarded the baron’s manor house, its attending buildings, many acres of arable lands, and the barracks.

The cogs, the indentured servants manning the fields, all cheered at the sight of their baron. There was no hunger here; even the children looked well-fed. Baron Iverson waved at them distractedly, the conquering emperor returning home after a profitable war.

They stared at him, of course. They recognized the dark blue garb he wore, noticed how he was tied up and forced to walk, how he was battered and covered in mud and blood. He kept his head held high as they shouted insults, hurling mean words his way in hope of breaking him. It meant nothing. He didn’t care.

They reached the stables where the clippers, the soldiers, dismounted from their tired horses. Stable lads hurried to take them, smiling and looking star-struck at the warriors with their shiny blades sheathed at their side.

One of the kids threw manure at him. He let it land wetly on his shoulder, too numb to care.

His captor had barely talked to him yet. He had no idea what awaited him here. Probably the life of a slave. Maybe he was going to be sold and sent on a river barge to unknown lands to toil for unknown peoples. He didn’t want that.

“Hey.” His captor was looking at him with a frown. “What’s your name?”

“Keith.”

He hadn’t wanted to say it but, at this point, what harm would it cause?

“Right. I’m James. We met before, you know?”

Keith said nothing. Maybe they had, maybe they hadn’t, he didn’t care much.

“Whatever. Come with me.”

The guy, James, undid the rope that bound his wrists. The cord had dug cruelly into his skin, leaving angry red marks. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t want to risk you making a run for it.”

Again, Keith kept quiet. He wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to answer. He had no idea what was going on. He had lost his place in the world. He was like a piece of wood in the middle of the ocean, being pushed this way and that. He had no say in anything whatsoever.

James held his arm loosely as he guided him out of the stables. Keith allowed himself to be guided towards what he supposed were the barracks. It was a large, low building where the clippers resided. Beside it was the large training field where they’d honed their fighting skills. A few youngsters were already going at it despite the early hours, their blunted blades flashing in the bright sunlight. They paused in their training to gawk at Keith, recognizing him for what he was. The pointing fingers and sneers annoyed him. He didn’t like the sight of naked steel in their hands. For the first time, fear stabbed at him. He had no idea what to expect.

The barracks were, as expected, mostly empty at this time of day. The younger clippers all roomed together in a communal dormitory, but older ones had more private quarters. The regent would have his own set of apartments, close enough to keep an eye on his people while being just far enough to avoid having to mingle.

The clippers that were in residence did notice their entry. About twenty of them gathered around James and Keith, eyes wide, grin on their faces. Keith withstood the scrutiny with his chin titled up. They made crude jokes, asked if he’d been dragged through the mud all the way here. He said nothing, teeth gritted, eyes focused on the far wall. His fists itched to be buried into their stupid face.

“Come on,” James said after a while, tugging at his arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up a little.”

When he was shown into communal showers, he suddenly understood. Horror dawned on him. Despair sank to the pit of his stomach. There were no stall, no curtain, no door for privacy. The sneering clippers were all watching, amused, whistling at him. His throat went tight with fear. He had trouble hiding the shaking of his limbs.

He looked at James then, hoping for a guidance, a sign that this was a bad joke. James was stony-faced however. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. There was no amusement in his eyes, only a calculating light.

“That’s enough,” he barked to the other clippers. “Get a hold of yourselves. It’s like you’ve never seen a naked guy before.”

He wasn’t the regent, but he held enough sway to quiet the others a little. Still, they didn’t avert their eyes and their grin remained firmly in place.

Keith had to make a decision. He was a prisoner here—if a clipper decided to roughen him up, nobody would lift a finger to stop them. The only thing standing between him and them was James. Why he’d decided to save him to later throw him into this situation, he didn’t know. All Keith knew was that, for the moment, his survival depended on that one man.

So he turned to face the clippers, tilting his chin up arrogantly. He wasn’t scared of them, wasn’t scared of their stares. Slowly, he started undressing. First he untied the cord holding his uniform closed. Then, he removed his tunic, letting it fall to the floor. He bent to untie his boots, ignoring the sniggers. His fingers shook slightly and his head felt curiously empty. Once barefoot, he unlaced his trousers and slid them down his legs. Only his undershirt remained. His face burned. His eyes prickled. He turned to turn on one of the showers. Lukewarm water trickled down on him before turning into a warm spray. He was drenched in seconds, his grimy grey shirt sticking to his skin. He knew they were all staring. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought. He was _performing_ for them, putting on a show.

He tilted his head back, combing his fingers through his tangled hair. Raising his arms inexorably tugged the hem of his shirt higher. It showed them his bare ass. Their stares bore into his skin like hot brands. He wanted to cry in shame and anger. Fucking animals. Why hadn’t they let him die? He couldn’t die however, not yet. He had to find Acxa, had to find his mother, had to live to fight another day.

He was strong. He would survive, he would endure.

He glanced over his shoulder at a flustered-looking James. He kept eye-contact as he slowly removed his shirt, exposing his naked body to all. He tuned down the vulgar comments and the catcalls. He didn’t feel attractive, not with the dirt covering his skin and the awkwardness that came with being stared at. He could tell James was liking what he was seeing. The flush on his face was a big tell as well as the way he kept shifting from one foot to the other. Keith glanced down at his crotch to see his tented trousers.

Normally, warm water would calm him. It would soothe his strained muscles and help him relax. It didn’t this time. His movements were jerky while he pretended to be unbothered. Using a piece of rough soap, he washed carefully every inch of his body. He made a show of being totally at ease while his heart hammered painfully against his ribs. He had no idea how to be seductive. He’d never had to seduce anyone before. He let his moves be guided by the comments, by the hitch in breathing of the watching crowd. Once, he even dropped the soap and bent to retrieve it rather than kneel. This got the most hoots of appreciation.

Finally, the water running down the drain turned clear. Although he didn’t feel quite clean, he turned off the shower. He pivoted on his heel to be face to face with James. Dragging his wet hair over one shoulder, he wrung it, noting how James’ eyes followed the droplets sliding down his chest. He was getting cold already, his skin breaking in goosebumps and his nipples hardening.

Yes, James was already hard in his trousers from merely watching him shower.

Keith had never wielded that kind of power before. He was a warrior before anything else. Power was power, though, And if getting a guy’s dick hard was the only thing he could do, then he would exploit it.

He extended a hand towards James, raising an eyebrow. “Towel, please?”

And the poor, poor fool scrambled to obey.


	2. Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet there was power to be had here nonetheless. Slaves weren’t nearly as powerless as their master believed them to be. Keith’s mother, Krolia, had been a slave before she’d managed to escape her bondage. She had been alone and defenseless, but she had been cunning enough to slip between the cracks. Her master had been so bewitched by her that he had never suspected her capable of treachery. One night, she’d slit his throat, stolen a good amount of his money, and been on her merry way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thank you so very much for the comments left on the first chapter! And thank you for choosing to read the second chapter! I hope you enjoy it!

The first couple of days passed in a blur. After years of war and weeks on the run, Keith’s body decide that right now would be the perfect time to give up. After his shower, after his pathetic little show of dominance, James lent him some clothes, handed him a bowl of porridge, and showed him to his cot. Keith fell face first on the bed and into sleep without a second thought.

He woke up bleary, cold, and disorientated two days later. For the longest, most terrifying seconds, he had absolutely no idea where he was. He sat up on the bed to look around him, not recognizing the small room. It contained two bunkbeds, a nightstand, and nothing more. The floor was made of rough planks and the walls were reddish bricks. One single window provided cool air and light. It had to be one foot in diameter, far too narrow for even a lithe man like Keith to slip through.

Ah, yes, he was a prisoner. He’d been captured after the battle by that bloke named James. He’d claimed they’d met before, but Keith couldn’t remember. It was possible; Marmora and Atlas had been allied years ago. It was then that he’d met Shiro, a friendly clipper who’d taken a shine to Keith for some reason. They’d become friends up until their respective barons decided to go their separate ways. Keith had seen Shiro only distantly after that, across the battlefield, and he’d heard of his friend only through his deeds in battle.

Keith couldn’t remember James personally. It sucked that he was now indebted to a guy who’d possibly been nothing more than a nodding acquaintance. He had no idea what was going to happen to him. There had been no time to talk before—James had been too flustered by what had happened in the showers and Keith had been too exhausted to think straight.

He rubbed his hands over his face. Panic tried to settle. It fluttered at the back of throat, making him want to scream. He swallowed it down with difficulty. Panic would get him killed. He had to get a level head if he wanted to survive. A cynical part of himself wondered what the price of survival would be and if it was worth it. He had no disillusion about his place here, about why he’d been taken alive. Clippers weren’t allowed to have romantic relationships in fear that it would divide their loyalty. Instead of finding themselves significant others, they either visited whorehouses in towns or got themselves slaves. James had done the practical thing and had taken an enemy soldier captive for the sole reason of bedding him. Keith saw the practicality in it even if he were on the wrong side of the deal.

He took in a deep breath to think calmly. It wasn’t so bad, he kept repeating himself. Being fucked couldn’t be so bad; it was better than being dead. It was just flesh, just an annoyance, just something to be survived before he slit his captor’s throat and ran away in the night.

He got up, suddenly no longer able to bear sitting on a bed. He didn’t want this. Maybe he didn’t have to suffer this. If he escaped, nobody would force themselves on him. He went to the door; of course it was locked from the outside. No matter how hard he strained against it, it didn’t budge an inch. Instead of sinking into despair, he rummaged around the room, uncaring to put things back in order. There had to be a pin, a needle, a small screw, anything he could use to force the lock. There was nothing. He surveyed the mess he’d made with growing dismay. Whoever occupied this place had nothing to their name except for clothes, a spare blanket, and a pair of old boots. Four beds meant four people, yet none of them had a small knife or a nail file?

_No, no, don’t despair. It’s fine. You’ve been awake for less than ten minutes. There’ll be plenty of chances to escape._

Yes, but when would they come? Would they come too late?

He paced the room. It was cool here. There was no glass at the window to keep out the breeze. He shivered in his borrowed clothes. He hated those clothes already; hated the sleeveless orange shirt and the white trousers because they weren’t the colours of his own barony. Wearing them made him feel like a traitor.

He had nothing else to wear however and he wasn’t dumb enough to go naked simply because he didn’t like the colour palette of his garments. He’d ask after the clothes he was wearing upon his arrival; they were stained and dirty and torn, but he could wash them.

He kept pacing. Six long strides took him from one end of the room to the other. Extending his arms, he could touch the frame of both bunkbeds with the tip of his fingers. He felt trapped, caged. He’d never been locked in anywhere. His heartbeat kicked up a notch. His chest felt tight. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, counting backwards from fifty. Slowly, the panic receded. It didn’t vanish completely. It remained lurking at the edges of his consciousness, ready to pounce at the first weakening of his will.

He sat back down on the bed, forcing himself to think. Now was the time to put that intellect to use. He might prefer action over thought, it didn’t mean he couldn’t formulate solid strategies. Right now, he needed to come up with the best plan of his life. It had to be foolproof, flexible, easy to follow. First he had to figure out what he had at his disposal: nothing. Rations and weapons: none. Goal: Run away from here. Destination: Anywhere but here.

Flimsy, even by his standard. He pressed his hands together between his knees, forcing himself to remain calm. It was okay. He’d just arrived. It would be smarter to reconnoitre first anyway. He needed to test the boundaries, to see what he could do and where he could go. Afterward, his main concern would be to get his hand on a weapon. Anything would do at this point; either a baton or a kitchen knife would be more helpful than his bare hands.

What to do with James, now? Keith frowned. It would be easier to plan if he could remember him. No matter how hard he wracked his memories, nothing came up. It was possible that James was mistaken, that he’d met some other guy who had looked like Keith. It didn’t matter. They had a connection and Keith suspected it was important to his captor, otherwise, he wouldn’t have rescued him. Playing on that was his best option. He had to remain in James’ good graces. The fact that he was the only thing standing between Keith and a hostile enemy notwithstanding, Keith might be able to use him to escape. He had to make James trust him enough to at least leave this door unlocked.

How he was going to achieve this was another story altogether. Keith was good a lot of things, but deception wasn’t one of them. His mother had told him hundreds of times that his face was an open book. He couldn’t lie without betraying himself. He could hardly fake or pretend.

He buried his face in his hands, withholding a scream of frustration. Maybe he could go to Shiro, beg for mercy, beg for help of any kind. They might have been on opposing sides during the rebellion, surely something remained of their old friendship. Shiro was a decent man anyway, he didn’t like slavery. He’d always treated his subordinates with utmost respect.

But Keith didn’t know whether he was willing to put his friend into that awkward situation. Shiro wouldn’t thank him for making him choose between his loyalty to his baron and his friendship with Keith.

For the first time in years, he felt truly, desperately alone. His family was gone. His comrades were gone. His home was gone. His best friend during his childhood might as well have been a stranger. He had gone from an acclaimed, well-respected warrior to a slave, doomed to warm the bed of his captor.

Yet there was power to be had here nonetheless. Slaves weren’t nearly as powerless as their master believed them to be. Keith’s mother, Krolia, had been a slave before she’d managed to escape her bondage. She had been alone and defenseless, but she had been cunning enough to slip between the cracks. Her master had been so bewitched by her that he had never suspected her capable of treachery. One night, she’d slit his throat, stolen a good amount of his money, and been on her merry way.

His mother had always been his hero. Krolia was smart and strong and capable and loving, everything he aspired to be. Could Keith be strong where it mattered? Could he be strong in mind as well as in body? This wasn’t a situation he’d get out of with strength, of that he was sure. Cunning would get him out of here. Cunning and deception.

It was with newfound resolve that Keith got to his feet when the door unlocked. He stifled his rage and fear and uncertainty, hiding it all behind a thick veneer of calm passivity. He could be angry inside, where it mattered, away from prying eyes.

The door swung open to reveal James and three other people, presumably those who occupied the room. They stood there staring at Keith, gaping at him like he’d appeared there. He tilted his chin up, crossing his arms over his chest, daring them to comment.

He wasn’t hugging himself. He wasn’t.

A young woman with dark hair got her wits back first. Her face broke into a large smile and she took a step inside. The friendless that oozed of her made Keith uncertain.

“Hey! You’re our new slave! Keith, right?”

_Our_ new slave? “I guess,” Keith answered warily.

“I’ll talk to him,” James grumbled. “Nadia, get out. Come back in an hour.”

“But this is our room,” another young woman reminded him calmly.

 “I know, Ina, I know. Out, now!”

And the door was slammed behind their retreating backs, leaving James and Keith alone for the first time.

Keith forced himself to relax his stance, not wanting to be confrontational. This might be here where he finally learned what would be expected of him. The not knowing scared him as much as the knowing. How would he react if he were told that his sole task would warming the beds of these four people? Could he do it? Would he want to do it? Could he survive it?

He gritted his teeth against the mounting panic. He could. He would. He’d get through it. He’d live to fight another day.

He’d get out and burn this fucking barony to the ground.

James turned to him, looking a bit flustered. “Uh, right, sorry about that. That was Ina, Nadia, and Ryan, my—” He indicated the room. “Roommates.” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, did you sleep well? Are you all right? Do you need something?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Keith began to relax. He stared at the other man in growing wonderment. Either James was a very skilled actor or he had absolutely no idea how to act with him. Was this new to him too? He seemed embarrassed standing there, looking expectantly at Keith.

This wasn’t what Keith had expected. He’d expected arrogance and condescension and mistreatment and fear. This… embarrassment threw him. This wasn’t what he’d been gearing up for. He had to change tactics.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” he said, striving to sound neutral. “You seem embarrassed. Why?”

James rubbed the back of his head, his eyes averted. “Honestly, I feel pretty terrible for what happened when you arrived. In the showers, I mean.”

“You feel terrible for letting me shower in front of guys?”

“You know what I mean! Urgh, look, it wasn’t my intention to parade you around like a trophy, okay? I expected the barracks to be empty so you could have some privacy. When they saw you, I couldn’t exactly back down.”

Keith had no idea what to say to that. Was that the truth, or was James playing him?

“Right. What happens to me now?”

James shrugged. “You’re my slave now, I’m sorry to say. That was the only way to save you. If I hadn’t claimed you, you’d have been executed. Realistically speaking, there’s no place for you here except as my slave.”

It hurt to hear. Keith swallowed with difficulty, trying to wrap his head around this. He had known before, but hearing it spoken out loud made it more… official, set in stone. There was no place for him here except as James’ slave.

“And what is your slave expected to do?” Keith asked.

“That’s a good question. I’ve never had a slave before.”

This was getting nowhere. “Am I expected to sleep with you?”

And, again, James turned crimson, surprising Keith. He spluttered. “T-that’s… that’s the accepted role of any slave, b-but I won’t force you or anything.”

“What if I want to?”

James gaped at him. Keith held his eye, staring him down.

Oh, dear, he didn’t want to share that man’s bed, didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He had to pretend, however, had to make sure he wrapped James around his little finger as tight as possible. He had to make James fall for him or, failing that, make James addicted to him. He’d seen it happening before, two people sharing such a passionate relationship that they became addicted to the other, that nothing else mattered. If, by some miracle, Keith could manage this with James, there was a possibility he’d make it out. Having James trust him meant he might get him to leave the door unlocked or to provide him with a mean to escape.

He had to have one ally on the inside. Betraying James’ trust wouldn’t hurt the way using Shiro would. If Keith went to Shiro for help and Shiro provided that help, the man would be in trouble—he could very well get executed, or, perhaps worse, also be sold as a slave to some faraway land. Should this happen, Keith would never be able to forgive himself.

No, it would be safer to work on James instead. Keith didn’t care if he got into trouble after he’d made his escape. Surely, he’d have brought it upon himself—did he truly think that a warrior of Marmora would become a meek slave easily? Did he truly think that _Keith_ , whom he supposedly knew, would become a meek slave?

Keith turned his attention back to James who still gaped at him.

“What?” Keith shrugged. “It’s better that than being thrown to the other clippers.”

“U-uh, erm, I-I wouldn’t do that!” James groaned, rubbing his face. “Let’s just… see where this goes first, all right? It’s not my intention to force myself on you.”

The idea was almost laughable; Keith wasn’t some defenseless slave. He was a warrior, he certainly could take James down without breaking a sweat. He didn’t say so however; perhaps it was better to let the other underestimate him a little, let him lower his guard.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

The words came out brutally honest, surprising Keith a little. It had been a real fear at the back of his mind, that someone would try forcing themselves of him. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, thinking childishly that ignoring it meant it wouldn’t happen. It reminded him uncomfortably that he had to rely on James for protection here. Not only did he have no weapon, he was on his own. Nobody would stoop in to help in case he got roughed up. Keith was strong, he was a great warrior, but even he couldn’t hold his own against ten determined clippers.

It was awkward, staring at each other. Somehow, it would be easier to deal with a mean James rather than with this awkward, unsure guy. Keith had expected meanness, had been putting himself in the right frame of mind to face it. This left him floundering a little.

The door swung open, startling them both. The sound of laughter reached their ears. Someone, a fellow clipper judging by her garb, threw a piece of fabric into James’ face, announcing she’d found suitable clothes for his slave. More sniggering resounded at this while James hurriedly slammed the door shut with a muttered swear.

“Nice,” Keith commented sarcastically. “They must hate you to make fun of you like that.”

“They don’t,” James grumbled. “I’m the right-hand of Regent Shirogane, and they give me hell for it.”

Another piece of information Keith tucked away for later observation.

“Are you going to give me my new clothes?,” he asked.

James kept his back turned, looking like he was hiding whatever had been thrown into his face. “N-no.”

With an exasperated sigh, Keith marched to him and tore the garment out of his grasp. James yelped in surprise, but wasn’t quick enough to take it back.

Gossamer fabric hung from Keith’s fingers in a dark red spill. It was very… thin, clearly expensive to the touch. There seemed to be little actual fabric to it too.

“Lingerie, nice. And here I was complaining about having to wear the Atlas colours.”

“You don’t have to—”

No, he didn’t have to. James sounded honest when he said that. There was something in his eye however, in the way his gaze went from Keith to the garment, like he was trying to imagine him wearing it. Keith tried not to blush, tried to push down the wave of humiliation. It was fine, it was just clothes. It was nothing to get worked up over.

_Think of it as armour, simply a different kind of armour to face a different kind of battle._

James spluttered and turned around when Keith began undressing. He did so quickly, afraid to lose his nerves. His hands shook. His panting breaths sounded loud in the small, cramped room.

_It’s armour, good armour. Let people see only that. Let them forget who you are and what you’re capable of._

The words in his mind sounded like something his mother would tell him. He focused on them, imagining her gentle, firm voice encouraging him, telling him not to be afraid.

He’d never worn lingerie before. Although there wasn’t much fabric to whatever this was, it took him long, embarrassing seconds to figure out how to put it on. The underwear were panties that fitted way too snuggly against his behind, nearly leaving half of it bare. There were long, flimsy socks that reached to his mid-thigh and had to be fastened to a belt that had seemingly no real purpose. The last piece was a sort of long-sleeved tunic held closed by a thin ribbon.

Of course it was all see through. The fabric was so thin Keith hardly felt it brush against his skin. The scars he’d acquired over a decade of warfare showed through the cloth, somehow ruining the slutty image he was projecting.

He had no idea what he looked like. There was no mirror anywhere in the room. He knew red looked good on him, that was all.

James’ back was still turned, his shoulders hunched. Keith could almost hear him _blush_ from across the room. Shit, they were so pathetic.

“Stop being so damn shy,” Keith barked, unsettled.

He wasn’t sure whether the words were more directed towards himself or towards James.

James waited a few seconds before turning. His eyes widened comically. His face went bright red. His mouth hang open. He shamelessly gave Keith a onceover. Then a second. Then a third. His eyes roamed his body like they didn’t quite know where to settle. Looking like he was in a daze, he took a few steps forward until they were close enough to touch. His hand brushed Keith’s upper arm, fingers slipping smoothly over the thin fabric.

Keith couldn’t quite repress the shudder at feeling the warm hand against his skin. He refused to move, refused to tense. He forced himself to remain calm so he didn’t miss any minute changes in James’ expression. He looked… transfixed. There was wonderment on his face, a little awe mixed with a hefty dose of lust. His breath against Keith’s cheek was warm. He felt his body heat.

James’ hand slid up and down his arm a few times in a whisper of a caress. Then, it went around him, pressing to the small of his back to pull him closer. Keith allowed it, going with the movement until their chests touched. He tried to ignore his own drumming heartbeat and panting breaths. He kept his eyes lowered slightly, too embarrassed to make eye contact. His thoughts whirled uselessly inside his brain. He had no idea what to do, wasn’t sure why he was reacting this strongly.

James’ other hand came to rest on his hip. The intimate touch sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. He realised with an embarrassed intake of breath that he could feel James’ hard-on against his thigh. He refused to look down at it, pretending it was something else, pretending he wasn’t getting worked up himself.

“Hell, Keith,” James murmured, “I’d forgotten just how beautiful you were.”

The words sank like a red-hot blade in Keith’s belly. His breath hitched. His heart skipped a beat. He had trouble swallowing with his dry throat. He inched closer a tiny bit, telling himself it was simply because of the cold air of the room.

When James leaned in for a kiss, Keith didn’t move. His brain shut down for half a second until it kick-started again, reminding him of his plan. Of his plan to make James fall for him. Licking his lips nervously, he met the other halfway. Their mouths met briefly, a small, tentative press. At the back of his mind, Keith noted with amazement how careful James was being. He was going slow, giving him every chance to pull back. Instead, Keith grabbed a fistful of James’ tunic and tugged him closer. The kiss deepened, Keith opening his mouth willingly with an embarrassing moan. James’ hands went to his jaw, angling his head back a little for better access. Soon tongues and teeth became involved.

Keith barely realised that James was pushing him backward until his back hit the wall. He groaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck. They were pressed so close now that there was no denying they were both getting hard from it. James let go of his jaw to let his hands roam all over his body, discovering the places that made Keith’s breath stutter. He grabbed his butt, grinding against him. Keith whimpered, the pressure both overwhelming and not nearly enough. James tugged the gossamer fabric up to get a better grip of Keith’s behind, digging his fingers into the thick flesh. This pulled a surprised moan from Keith’s mouth. He felt James’ mouth pull into a smile.

The knock on the door startled them enough that they both jumped. James pulled back hurriedly, face red, eyes huge, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. He tried smoothing his shirt and his hair down at the same time while Keith leaned on the wall for support, panting. His blood pounded in his veins, still going south despite the interruption.

“James?” came the muffled voice from the other side. “Dinner.”

“Fuck,” Keith mumbled. He ran his fingers through his long hair, pushing it back into a semblance of order. At the mention of food, his stomach growled loudly. “Shit, I’m famished.”

James threw him an incredulous look. “How you can be thinking of food when… when we…” He gestured between the two of them helplessly. “You know.”

“Maybe because I’ve barely eaten in two days? You’re going to have to feed me if you want to fuck me.”

The sound that escaped James’ throat was very close to a strangled whimper. His face reddened further. “D-don’t be so bloody vulgar!”

Keith shrugged, playing it more cool than he felt. “It’s the truth. So, food or not? Or are you going to starve me until I have to beg for it?”


	3. Grinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I fucking hate you,” James grumbled.
> 
> Keith sat on the armchair, his face hurting from trying not to grin. James was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the muddy footprints he’d left behind. 
> 
> “I’m a clipper, I shouldn’t be doing the job of a slave!”
> 
> “You heard Shiro; you break it you pay for it. You ruined my floor, so you fix it.”
> 
> “It’s still bullshit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for the comments! I hope you like this new chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!

Getting used to this new life proved to be a challenge. Keith _loathed_ being a slave. Loathed everything that came with it; the powerlessness, the dismissing looks, the brute way people dealt with him, not being able to speak his mind in fear of retribution.

Just like nearly every other slaves, he worked in the baron’s house. As he had no training—he couldn’t sew a button, couldn’t cook, couldn’t work in the garden—he was put to the more menial tasks of cleaning. His first day had been spent on his knees scrubbing floors that clearly didn’t need it, polishing ironwork that had been polished the week before, and carrying buckets of water up and down countless stairs. It wasn’t easy work, not even for someone in good physical shape as him, but it sucked nonetheless. Cogs sneered at him when they met him in the corridors. Inhabitants of the household expected him to bow and scrape to their every whims, not caring that by disturbing him they were making him late in his work.

For some dumb reason, he’d thought being James’ slave meant he wouldn’t have to do anything for anyone except than for him. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. James could excuse him from work if he needed him. Otherwise, Keith had to work for his bread and butter like everybody else on the estate. At night, he went back to the clippers’ barrack where a pallet had been installed for him in James’ room. He slept on the floor with only one blanket to keep him warm.

James didn’t make passes at him, didn’t even invite him to his bed. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t touch each other. It was like what had happened after his arrival didn’t exist. Except that it did; Keith still had the lingerie he’d worn that time. He kept it carefully folded under his pillow, unsure what to do with it, unsure whether he should try wearing it again. He hadn’t expected to be left to his own devices. James seemed to have hardly any time for him; they only saw each other late in the evening at the curfew, and that was when James didn’t have guard duty during the night.

Keith was at a loss. Not that he could quite complain; he’d been dreading having sex with James, but it had been part of his plan. Scrubbing floors and emptying latrines wasn’t.

Nobody really talked to him unless it was to direct him to a task. The head slave was an older man with an eye for detail who could spot the tiniest dirt stain on an otherwise pristine floor. Every morning he directed his small army of slaves to their tasks and prowled the halls and rooms of the manor to make sure everybody was at their designated post. The slaves did talk amongst themselves. In between two rooms, at noon around their meagre lunch, they gossiped and exchanged news about their masters while making sure to leave Keith out of it. They glanced at him sideways, mistrust easily readable in their demeanour. He couldn’t quite blame them; he was an outsider, an enemy captured during the war. It surprised him that slaves, who were mostly maltreated every day, would feel such loyalty for their master.

Most of all however, Keith tried avoiding Shiro at all cost. He’d seen him a few times from afar. Every time he’d ducked to be out of sight, unsure how a meeting with his old friend would go. It killed him to behave like that, but it seemed to be the wisest thing to do. If they didn’t speak, nobody could accuse Shiro of fraternizing with the enemy.

Keith therefore kept to himself, trying not to think much and to solely focus on what was directly in front of him. Once—or if—James’ attentions returned to him, he’d be able to set his plan into motion. Barely seeing the guy made it almost impossible to seduce him. He was then stuck with his duties for sole company, his duties and his thoughts.

The only person trying to be remotely friendly was one of James’ friends, the woman named Nadia. When their paths crossed, she’d waved or smile at him encouragingly. She’d offered him her extra blanket and usually talked about her day before they went to bed. This left Keith baffled; where he came from, strangers weren’t this friendly. Polite, yes, but never going out of their way to be welcoming. Maybe she had something at the back of her mind, that she had an ulterior motive to befriend him. If that were the case however, he couldn’t begin to imagine what it might be. What could she possibly want from him? He didn’t sense cruelty in her so this wasn’t to torture him.

Perhaps she was simply this friendly. After all, she was always talking to everybody, be they fellow clippers, cogs, or slaves. Keith just didn’t know. Nothing in his life made sense anymore anyway.

It rained that day, a first since his arrival. The light drizzle turned into a downpour in the blink of an eye. Soon, when Keith looked out the window, he only saw a sheet of grey droplets. It was cold too with a chilly wind blowing from the north. The night would be miserable, humid and wet and cold. He glanced at the fire burning merrily in the fireplace with loathing. Fucking Baron Iverson and his fucking endless wealth—he had so much money he could afford a fire in every room of his manor, even those not in use. Keith had never seen such a waste of resources. Where did he get all that wood and all that oil? The largest forests were miles away, accessible mostly by boat. Having heavy materials such as logs transported by barge costed a fortune. Keith couldn’t begin to wrap his head around how much wood had to be brought in to allow fires to burn every day in nearly every room.

At least it meant Shiro didn’t have to sleep in the cold.

Keith set his bucket  down with a hard thud. Soapy, cooling water slushed on one side, wetting the hardwood floor. He looked at the room with his lip curled up in a disgusted sneer. Another useless space hardly used. He couldn’t fathom what this was all for; a few armchairs, knickknacks on shelves, two tables of heavy woods. At least the view through the huge window was gorgeous; from here on the second floor he could see the extent of the fields. In summer, with the barley and rye and flax in full bloom, the ground must look like a patchwork of different shades of yellow.

He pulled his gaze from the window. With that much rain falling from the sky, there was nothing to see anyway. With a sigh, he rolled his sleeves up, knelt, picked up his brush, and began scrubbing. This floor had been washed a week ago; he knew, he’d done it himself. He wasn’t sure anyone had walked into this room ever since, so what was the point of another cleaning? Keith fervently hoped that, when the harvest came, he’d be sent to help the field slaves. At least he’d be working under the sky and actually doing something useful.

Footfalls coming from the hallway made him look up. He’d just scrubbed that damn floor and he could hear the wet tap of muddy boots. He gritted his teeth, biting down on the urge to scream with annoyance.

The footsteps stopped on the threshold. Keith’s eyes immediately zeroed on those wet boots covered in mud that dripped on his pristine floor. He raised his head slowly, feeling the outburst build at the back of his throat. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t snap. He’d be punished, probably sentenced to even more scrubbing or washing.

He hadn’t expected to see James standing there. His eyes widened. James had been gone for two days on some patrol mission. He’d told Keith not to expect him for another week at least. Raids on the border, he’d said, or something Keith hadn’t cared to listen to.

He sat back on his haunches. There was something odd about James. It wasn’t only in his soaked clothes and his drenched, messy hair. Keith had seen enough blood to recognize it on fabric when he saw it. There were dark red blotches on James’ jacket that hadn’t dried because of the rain. The look in his eyes spoke more eloquently than anything else however. Keith knew it instantly, had seen it in his own eyes when he’d seen his reflection in the running waters of a river after a battle.

Bloodlust.

Whatever had happened out there, there had been a battle. No doubt James’ blood still sang with it, sang a song of mastery and the sweet aria of being alive.

Keith barely had time to get on his feet that James was grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into a kiss. It was all teeth and bites from the go, no shy press of lips like they had shared before. Keith twisted his fingers into the soggy fabric of James’ jacket while James seized a hold of his hair. Warmth blossomed between their two bodies yet Keith shivered. James’ clothes and skin were freezing. Unthinkingly, he pulled him closer, tugging him backward towards the fireplace. James kicked out blinding, his foot catching the door to push it close with a loud bang.

James pushed him back until his shoulder blades bumped into the shelve. Knickknacks rattled, some coming precariously close to falling. Keith didn’t care, couldn’t bring himself to care. James had slipped his cold hands under his shirt, making him gasp. He shivered, his own clothes dampened from the press of their bodies. His hips were seized next. James grinded against him, his hard dick impossible to miss. Keith moaned loudly, surprising himself. His face burned with embarrassment as he realised he’d gotten hard too.

James offered him a weak grin. Keeping a firm hold, he kept grinding, their clothed erections rubbing against each other. The pressure was amazing, the brush of cloth against his dick breathtaking. Soon Keith was breathing hard, panting, unable to stop the little moans from escaping his opened mouth. The knickknacks kept rattling loudly and the shelve banged against the wall. Keith wrapped his arm around James’ neck, pulling him into a kiss just so he’d have a way to muffle his cries. His underwear were wet. He shook, trying to match the rhythm of James’ hips. He couldn’t get enough of the friction, couldn’t get enough of the way James’ hands tugged at his butt, the fingers digging hard into his skin to direct his movements. James turned his head to litter kisses all over Keith’s jaw and neck, biting at the skin, pulling more moans from him.

Heat boiled in Keith’s belly. He was getting close, he could tell. He tried saying so to James, but the words failed him. Another sharp grind and his back was bowing, his head snapping back as he came with a muffled shout in his underwear. James kept going, his breathing turned to gasping pants, his grip bruising, the movement of his hips erratic. He only gasped when he came, the sound barely above a loud whisper. He bit down hard on Keith’s neck, teeth breeching the skin.

They remained there for a few seconds, panting, trying to come down from their high. Keith’s head spun from the quick orgasm. He had trouble catching his breath.

Finally, James took a step back, letting him go. The front of Keith’s clothes was soaked and he shivered at the loss of body heat. James looked at him, eyes taking in his certainly wrecked appearance. Keith had no idea what to say or what to do. His wet underwear was uncomfortable and his neck hurt from where he’d been bitten. Judging by the blood on James’ lips, there would be a nasty bruise.

They stood there for a few awkward seconds, considering the other. James stepped forward, pressed a hand to the small of his back to pull him closer, and kissed his forehead gently. The soft touch surprised Keith more than anything else. He remained there, stunned, while James offered a knowing grin before departing.

Keith’s eyes went to the floor. To the drying muddy footprints that had been left behind. Surely by now the corridor was full of them too.

The cooling flames of lust rekindled with rage this time. Without thinking, Keith grabbed the bucket of water.

“James!” he snarled.

He turned the corner of the door, throwing the bucket. Soapy, grimy water arched gracefully in the air. Keith saw it happening in slow motion while horror suffused him. He saw James turning after hearing his name called, saw Shiro approaching over James’ shoulder, totally unsuspecting. Saw the water splashing all over them. Saw them both flinch at the exact same time.

His heart stopped in his chest.

-

“I fucking hate you,” James grumbled.

Keith sat on the armchair, his face hurting from trying not to grin. James was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the muddy footprints he’d left behind.

“I’m a clipper, I shouldn’t be doing the job of a slave!”

“You heard Shiro; you break it you pay for it. You ruined my floor, so you fix it.”

“It’s still bullshit!”

It wasn’t bullshit, but it was funny and a tiny bit validating. After throwing the bucket of water into Shiro’s face, Keith had been sure he’d be punished. What he’d done could be considered as an assault on the regent, a crime never taken lightly. It would have been Shiro’s right to have Keith whipped or put in isolation. Instead, he’d looked down at his soaked clothes, asked what this was about, and had punished James for ruining Keith’s hard work, much to James’ chagrin.

Although James complained, he did wash the floor, scrubbing away at the dried mud with a single-mindedness that was kind of scary. By the time he was done, his clothes had dried on his back. His hair was a mess, brown strands sticking out every which way. There was an annoyed flush to his cheeks.

“You know,” Keith began while James sat back on his haunches to wipe his forehead. “Either you trust me or you’re damn stupid.”

James looked at him sharply. “Wha—”

His eyes landed on the sword he’d thoughtlessly left within Keith’s reach, the sword that Keith was now holding loosely, balancing it on his knee. To his credit, he didn’t appear afraid, merely annoyed at his own carelessness. The blade remained in its sheath of worn leather.

When Keith had seen the sword left unguarded, he’d honestly considered taking it and stabbing James while his back was turned. His fingers, his hands, his whole body had itched with it. He’d weighed the sword, feeling its perfect balance, the smooth hilt wrapped in leather for a comfortable grip. It would be easy for someone with his experience. He already knew the spot; just between the ribs on the left. One sharp trust to reach the heart and James would crumble dead never knowing what had hit him.

What next, however? This question had stopped him in his tracks. What would he do after killing James? How would he get out of the mansion, how would he leave the grounds? He could abandon the sword to be less conspicuous, but that would leave him weaponless to face the dangerous world beyond the Atlas barony borders.

Pondering this for too long had made him miss his chance. A part of himself seethed at this while the other was relieved that he hadn’t gone through with this mad plan. Even if he’d managed to kill James, to leave unnoticed, to exit the grounds, Baron Iverson would have sent every one of his clippers after Keith once he’d discovered what had happened. Keith would be hunted for the rest of his life, nothing more than prey. And when they’d find him, slavery would seem like a walk in the park.

They stared at each other, the clipper and the slave in a comical reversal of power. Keith looked down his nose at James. His fingers twitched around the hilt of the blade. He savoured the second it lasted, missing the feeling, knowing he’d probably never have a sword in his grasp again. He’d be lucky to be trusted with a butter knife.

Slowly so as not to startle James into violent action, he extended the blade hilt first. Tension escaladed, cranked up another notch. Keith’s blood pounded in his ears. He controlled his breathing, refusing to show any sign of fear or wavering. He kept his limbs loose, ready to react.

For the longest moment, they stared at each other, none willing to break eye contact first. Then, mercifully, James took back his sword with deliberate ease. He got to his feet. From this new height, it was his turn to look down his nose at Keith.

Keith didn’t bat an eye. He kept his face smooth, expressionless. This was a battle of sorts, a battle if not for dominance, at least for understanding. They were testing each other’s limits, treading with care. Keith wasn’t afraid, but this staring contest reminded him uncomfortably of where they both stood. They weren’t equals. He was alive thanks to James’ mercy. Despite this, he’d never once sensed that James was trying to have any power over him. So far, he’d indeed been more of a protector than a jailer. He’d treated Keith with a measure of respect that was denied other slaves. It wasn’t perfect, but at least he’d never forced himself on Keith, never did anything to make him uncomfortable.

“Maybe you don’t trust me, but I trust you,” James said.

“Then you’re stupid.”

James shrugged. “You could have stabbed me while my back was turned. You didn’t.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Good. I don’t want you to die either. I also know I can trust you with this.” He handed the sword back to Keith. “You know your way around weapons; whet it and polish it. I expect it to be in tiptop condition when you return it to me.”

And he turned on his heels, leaving Keith utterly baffled with a sword in his hands.

-

Keith didn’t understand James, didn’t understand his motivations. They rarely talked and, when they came together, it was usually in a rush of passion with their pants around their ankles. Keith didn’t mind; James kept asking and he kept saying it was all right. He’d been expecting to be molested, not to be asked permission to be touched. It was fun; it added a thin layer of excitement over his otherwise boring, monotone life.

After the water bucket incident, Keith sensed that a few things had changed. There was new respect in James’ eyes. There was also a measure of trust that hadn’t been there before. Keith realised that James had been _wary_ of him, uncertain whether Keith would strangle him in his sleep. Not that it hadn’t crossed Keith’s mind half a million times; there were nights when he lay sleepless considering the ways he might kill his keeper without being caught. It always came back to the same depressing thing: he might get away with it up until someone discovered the dead body. Then, his life would be spent on the run, never trusting anyone, always looking over his shoulder. He didn’t fool himself into thinking that he could outrun every one of the clippers Iverson sent after him. One day, he’d slip. One tiny mistake was all it took to be stabbed.

No, the best thing to do was to make James let him go of his own freewill. It happened; slaves caught the eye of a freeman or a freewoman and were given their freedom. Keith’s case was different however; he hadn’t been born in slavery. He’d been made a slave because he’d been an enemy soldier. Baron Iverson might not like the idea of freeing him overly much. Since James was a clipper, marriage between the two of them was impossible. On the other hand, James still could have him freed for good behaviour. Being made a cog was only a tiny step away from slavery, but it was better than nothing.

Therefore, it all went back to his initial plan of seducing James.

Which seemed to be well underway, for some reason Keith couldn’t understand. From what he’d seen, James was nice to everybody, which meant it wasn’t that surprising that he was nice to his slave. It wasn’t only niceness however—he went over and above to be gentle, patient, understanding. He did lose his temper at times, of course. Keith liked to try his patience despite everything. This felt like they had achieved a perfect balance, and it left Keith utterly confused. This wasn’t how he had expected this to happen. He had expected to have to _work_ for this seduction, not that it would just happen. He hadn’t quite planned what would come _after_ James had been seduced.

Apparently, it involved a lot of heavy petting, a lot of heated kisses in dark corners of the baron’s mansion, a lot of smouldering looks exchanged from far away, and sleeping pressed together on a too-narrow bed.

Keith liked the last part best; sleeping with James was much better than sleeping on the floor since it was warm at least. This sadly didn’t happen too often; James was kind of shy in his display of affections and he refused to invite Keith to his bed if his roommates were present. The first time he’d suggested it, Nadia had jokingly told them to get a room. That had been the end of it. The other two roommates, Ina and Ryan, were much more discreet. Keith had exchanged a few words with them and he had yet to discover what they truly made of his presence. They were polite with him, but he could tell they didn’t trust him. Ryan had especially disapproved of James entrusting his weapons to Keith for cleaning and maintenance—the first time he’d seen Keith with a sword his face had gone chalky. It would have been funny if Keith hadn’t been terrified by the quiet, calm violence lurking under the man’s urbane mask. Thankfully, after that incident, things had been smoothed down enough that the five of them got along sufficiently to make living in close quarters endurable.

Tonight was one of those nights where Ryan, Ina, and Nadia were mercifully on guard duty, which meant Keith could sneak into James’ bed without his complaining. The rain hadn’t relented all day, leaving behind a chilly humidity that chilled Keith to the bone. He’d been caught in the downpour after his shift at the manor and, although he’d changed into dry clothes, he’d been shivering ever since. It was a mercy to slip beneath James’ blankets, doing his best to appear annoyed by it—he didn’t want to look too eager, though James could surely feel his shivering.

James, half asleep already, lazily wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest. Keith kept quiet, inwardly relishing the warmth seeping through their clothes. In minutes his shivering quietened to a mere occasional twitch. James was warm and solid against his back, surprisingly comforting.

He pressed his face into Keith’s long hair and mumbled drowsily: “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He was okay. In fact, more than okay. James moved and accidently tugged on his hair. It sent a violent shiver down Keith’s back. It was so unexpected that he had no time to repress it. He’d always liked having his hair petted and touched, but he hadn’t expected he’d like having it pulled too. His reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. He could tell James wasn’t as sleepy as he’d been a minute ago. The arm he’d slung over Keith’s waist felt heavier, his breathing shallower.

“Still okay?” James murmured, his hand trailing lower.

Keith gulped as he felt fingers sliding lower. “Yeah.”

He couldn’t stop a small exhale of breath as the hand slipped under the waistband of his pants. The touch ghosted over his skin like a hot brand. His back arched. Unconsciously, he grinded his butt over James’ hardening erection. He could feel it pressing against his ass, a pressure that made him hot all over.

When James’ fingers closed around his own growing erection, Keith moaned. The sound seemed shamefully loud in the empty room. He clamped a hand over his mouth, refusing to let anyone hear how worked up he was. After a few long torturous seconds, he slid his other hand down his own pants, intent on showing James how he wanted it done. James swore under his breath, allowing himself to be guided. The movements remained slow but with some pressure added. Keith moaned, hips bucking into the tight grip. Red hot pressure was already coiling inside his guts.

“Fuck, Keith,” James groaned into his hair.

Keith let out a gasp of protest when James stopped moving his hand, only to turn bright red when he tugged down his pants. They were pushed awkwardly down his thighs and, after feeling James shifting behind him, he realised that James was pulling his pants down too. An odd sound escaped his throat when their skin met. James’ erection felt burning hot. Keith, mind whirling, wondered if they were going to fuck for the first time. Part of him dreaded it while the horny part hungered for it. He pushed back his butt, tilting his hips invitingly, smothering the voice of embarrassment that clamored inside his head. Satisfaction suffused him when he heard James groan.

“You okay with that?” James asked breathlessly as he slid his dick between Keith’s thighs.

Keith was more than okay with that even though he wasn’t sure what the other was doing. It did feel good in a way he couldn’t explain. He was panting hard now, sweating, his previous chills long forgotten. James raised himself on one elbow, adjusting their position a bit. Keith let him, too turned on to care much. His dick yearned for attention that he ignored for the moment.

James moved his hips back before pushing them forward. His dick slid almost smoothly between Keith’s thighs. Keith gasped at the sensation, realising what was happening. His hand went back to his own dick. He seized it almost in a death grip, jerking himself at the same pace James set. It didn’t take him long to start panting and moaning in earnest. He totally forgot about the other clippers sleeping just one closed door away. He pressed his burning face into his pillow, desperately chasing his release. The movement of his hand became jerky and he slowed down a bit. He heard James mutter something sounding like _good boy_ that sent a shiver down his spine.

He could tell James was close to coming too. His thrusts became uncoordinated, his breathing catching in his throat. He was gripping Keith’s hip hard, digging his fingers into the soft skin with a desperation that would surely leave a mark.

Keith bit down on his lip hard, trying to stifle a moan. He tightened his grip on his dick. That fire turned incandescent. He came with a cry, spilling all over his hand and the blankets. Stars exploded behind his eyelids. He lost himself in the burning that shook his whole body. For seemingly forever, there was only pleasure coursing through his veins.

His blood cooled. He came back down to earth with a sigh. James was panting against his neck, his breaths wet and warm. He’d finished too, his come covering Keith’s inner thighs in sticky warmth.

They didn’t move for a moment, catching their breath, coming back to their senses. Keith felt a small pain blossoming on his hip where James’ fingers had dug tiny crescents.

James pulled back slowly. He seemed hesitant, unsure what to do next. He patted Keith’s shoulder awkwardly.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That was—”

“Nice.”

“Nice?”

Keith snorted. “Yes, nice. Except now I’m covered in come. Way to go, marking your territory.”

James made a noise between laughter and a groan. “Don’t say things like that. Stay there, I’ll fetch a towel.”

“Never mind that. If you move those blankets, it’ll get cold again.”

Keith fully removed his pants and used them to wipe himself with. He grimaced at the sticky mess—a shower in the morning would be in order. In the meantime, this would do.

“You’re impossible,” James grumbled fondly.

Once again he wrapped an arm around Keith, pulling him close and nuzzling the back of his head. Keith allowed it. He was too tired to complain anyway.


	4. Oral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, you should see a doctor when you need stitches,” Keith noted wryly.
> 
> James hissed, not looking up. He sat on his bed, trying to stitch up a nasty cut he’d received on his right upper arm. The skin under the gash was covered in blood nearly to the wrist. He’d half-heartedly sponged it off before trying his hand at stitching. And failing miserably at it. His left hand was clumsy and the needle kept slipping from his bloody fingers.
> 
> “Shut up,” he grumbled, voice tight with pain and exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Thank you for the comments left on the previous chapter! Enjoy this new one!

A month, then two went by, the passage of time marked mostly by the changing in the weather. The air got warmer, the nights less chilly. There wasn’t as much mud dragged in from wet boots. Daily battle for the slaves working in the manor included dust and sand, and trying not to pass out at the smells coming from the broiling latrines. No fires in the fireplaces meant less scrubbing and no wood fetching, which was a mercy.

It was during his third month of captivity that Keith finally got the chance to talk with Shiro. Their path had crossed many times in the past. The two of them would nod respectfully without exchanging a word. Keith hadn’t quite minded at first; he’d seen the warmth and concern in Shiro’s eyes, a sure indication that he hadn’t forgotten their friendly past. There had been few occasions to actually talk, however. Baron Iverson liked to keep a firm grip on his people and societal hierarchy was important to him. His regent had no need to talk to a lowly slave and so, Shiro kept silent. Keith knew it was to protect them both, but it still rankled a little. There were days when he’d have gladly taken any token of friendship, any sign that his whole life hadn’t been spent scrubbing floors. Although James was nice and his roommates were okay, Keith was still desperately alone. The other slaves still looked at him with suspicion. The cogs turned their nose up at him. The clippers saw him only when he was with James, and that was to make lewd comments that James hated.

He was a lonely. Before being captured, he’d considered himself a loner. He’d been on friendly terms with dozens of people from Marmora, been friends with a handful of them. He had been able to go a few days on his own, especially when he was out on a mission. Hunting, tracking, ambushing, those were things he’d done on his own. He’d thought it meant he was okay with solitude. And perhaps he was; it was isolation that was killing him. He’d never been isolated before, never pushed into a corner. It hurt.

And so he desperately jumped on the occasion to talk to Shiro when it came. He was too far gone to care whether his desperation was ridiculous or not.

Shiro was alone in the stables when Keith entered to look for a broom that wasn’t broken. He found the regent petting the head of his horse, talking to the animal in a soft voice while he fed it an apple. The horse nibbled gently from his open palm, demeanour calm, eyes drooping.

Keith froze, observing the scene in silence. He’d seen this often in the past. Shiro had a way with horses that was almost scary. Any animal he laid his hand upon immediately calmed down. Keith hadn’t done well with horses back then; his mother had told him the horse sensed his nervousness which was why it didn’t listen. Shiro had taught him how to relax, how to care for his mount until it became as pliable as any dog.

It reminded him of easier days, back when Marmora and Atlas had been allies, not quite at war yet.

Sensing his presence, Shiro turned his head and smiled. “Hey, buddy.”

That old greeting. Keith’s throat tightened. His eyes burned. How often Shiro had greeted him this way, smiling that gentle, sweet smile. Keith remembered being twelve and half in love with the older man, awed by his kindness and strength and knowledge. It had seemed to him that Shiro knew everything, from what plant could be eaten in the wilderness to how to kill an enemy in one single stroke. Shiro’s duality had been a never-ending source of puzzlement for Keith; how could such a great warrior also be the kindest person alive?

“Hey, Shiro,” he said, getting closer.

They’d been friends then. Although they hadn’t quite been equal, the chasm between them hadn’t yawned as great as it did now. Technically, a slave shouldn’t even be talking to the regent. A good slave would have left the stables after seeing they were already occupied. It was a mindset Keith had yet to sink into. It also helped that this was Shiro, Shiro whom he knew not to care about such nonsense.

“How are you doing?”

Small three words that punched the breath out of Keith’s lungs. The world rocked under his feet. In three words, Shiro had managed to convey all the worry he’d been feeling. He had been able to show none of it, yet it had been there. Keith knew it as well as he knew his own name. Shiro remembered them, remembered those blessed days of peace before war when they’d been allowed their friendship. It had seemed like such a distant time, like those events had happened to someone else and Keith had merely heard them recounted later on.

“Fine,” he mumbled.

It wasn’t an outright lie. Physically, he was doing just fine: he ate three meals a day, had clothes on his back, a roof to sleep under at night. He was lonely however and this wasn’t something he knew how to explain. This wasn’t something he wished to explain either, not when Shiro was looking at him with such genuine concern in his grey eyes.

The war had aged him. Keith had heard that he’d been taken prisoner before managing to escape. The months of imprisonment showed cruelly on his body; the deep scar over his nose, the tuft of white hair, the missing right arm, the cicatrices on the one that remained, the new haunted look in his eyes. Keith wanted to ask about it, asked if he were all right, if he had someone to take care of him. When they’d first met, Shiro had been going out with a doctor, a fellow named Adam. There had been a bad breakup afterward and Keith didn’t know how things stood between them. It wasn’t his place to ask, not anymore.

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it,” Shiro said with a genuine smile.

And this was the truth. Although he’d been quiet about it, Shiro had been worrying about him, Keith realised with a jolt. Shiro hadn’t been able to inquire about his wellbeing and he’d been wondering about him. This warmed Keith more than anything else. His eyes prickled with stupid tears that he swallowed back with difficulty. Shiro was physically within reach yet so far—their place on the social ladder made it impossible for them to ever be close again.

“James isn’t so bad,” Keith admitted grudgingly.

This brought a light to Shiro’s eyes. “Yes, I know. I’m glad he saved you, Keith.” He paused, looking towards his horse. “I wish I could have done the same. I’m sorry.” Another delicate pause. “ _Things_ would have been expected I do to you, things I could never bring myself to do. As regent, I never could have been seen being friendly to you.”

Keith knew all that, but hearing it spoken out loud hurt. He averted his eyes too, affording them both that small privacy. He rested his hand against the wood partition of the box, feeling the thick grain despite the callus on his fingertips. For a moment, he fantasized how things could have been if Shiro had been the one saving him rather than James. He imagined doing with Shiro what he’d been doing with James, and heat blossomed on his cheeks. It wouldn’t have been a chore, of that he was certain. He’d have done it all more than willingly.

But it wasn’t meant to be. Shiro and he were never destined to be. Keith had to accept that.

“It’s all right,” he said in a low voice.

Shiro turned to him, smiling slightly. “I’ll not tolerate anyone hurting you. James is a good person so I doubt he’ll ever manhandle you or do something against your will. If he does however, please, don’t hesitate to tell me. I wish my clippers to be strong and reliable, but I won’t have them brutalizing slaves. It’s unseemly and unworthy of warriors.”

Keith scoffed. “You know I can give as good as I get.” When Shiro’s eyebrows rose, he quickly amended: “But I won’t do anything that’ll get me into trouble, don’t worry.”

The smile broadened. “Smart kid. Well, I’ll leave you to it. The slave master and the baron won’t be happy if we’re kept from our duties.”

Keith nodded. In a matter of minutes, he was once again alone in the stables, unsure what to do with himself. Shiro’s horse, Black, nuzzled at his shoulder as if in recognition. He remained there a moment, closing his eyes and imagining he was ten years younger with the feeling that he had his whole life ahead of him. Then, he grabbed the broom he’d been looking for and went back to his own work.

-

Spring brought with it warmth and bright light. The leaves in their trees returned to their original green colours. Flowers of vibrant hues appeared in bushes and in the tended gardens of the manor. The planting for flax, peas, and lettuce began as did the harvesting for leafy greens and root vegetables. As he had hoped, Keith was pulled from his inside work to help in the huge fields of the barony. It wasn’t easy; he rose before the sun and came back to his bed late in the evening. It wasn’t quite sweltering then but it would get there soon. It was good exercise at least and Keith had missed being under the bright blue sky.

He worked amongst cogs who, being free, thought this made them better than him. They looked down their nose at him and at the other slaves who toiled alongside them. They were always given the hardest or most demeaning tasks. Keith didn’t care; he’d do anything if it meant being outdoors during the beautiful summer days.

What he disliked about this however was that the tiltyard was adjacent to the part of the field he tended, which meant the clippers and their colts—clippers in training—trained where he could see them. More often than not, he’d stop his work to simply watch, yearning to be amongst those wielding a sword rather than amongst those wielding a hoe. His longing stares didn’t go unnoticed; the cogs mocked him for this. They made such a fuss that, once, a few clippers had noticed and thrown jibes at him—Keith could have gutted them in anger.

Working the long hours in the field also meant he didn’t get to see James much. James was sent raiding and patrolling the borders of the barony more and more too. They spent little time together nowadays and, when they fell into bed, they were too exhausted to think about anything but sleep after some light petting. Keith had no idea what was going on at the borders—nobody thought to keep him abreast of the current strife. Once in a while, James would come back bruised or wounded, or he’d leave for town to get a few new tattoos on his back to keep count of the warriors he killed. Skirmishing was nothing new amongst the baronies, and this seemed to be a tad more serious. Keith had heard clippers grumbling about lying barons and corrupt regents. Everybody shut up whenever he got near, so he had no idea what this all meant.

“You know, you should see a doctor when you need stitches,” Keith noted wryly.

James hissed, not looking up. He sat on his bed, trying to stitch up a nasty cut he’d received on his right upper arm. The skin under the gash was covered in blood nearly to the wrist. He’d half-heartedly sponged it off before trying his hand at stitching. And failing miserably at it. His left hand was clumsy and the needle kept slipping from his bloody fingers.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, voice tight with pain and exhaustion.

Keith remained leaning against the doorframe, watching him fumble about. Like every clipper, James was covered in scars but, apparently, it was his first time trying to stitch up a wound. Keith wasn’t very surprised; rich barons like Iverson were able to readily provide medics for their troops, so James probably never had to do his doctoring himself.

After the thread came loose for a third time, Keith heaved a sigh, sat beside the other, and took the needle. He threaded it again and began stitching up the skin close in quick, sure motions. James winced, tensing beneath his touch. This was his only sign of discomfort; other than that, he remained stoic, gritting his teeth. His skin wasn’t hot under Keith’s hands so he concluded the cut hadn’t become infected despite not being treated right away. Although his stitches weren’t quite neat, they’d do. He snipped the thread, tied it up, and covered the whole thing with a thick bandage.

“You can’t die,” Keith said conversationally, tying the bandage up tightly. “What would become of me otherwise?”

James offered him a pained grin. “Who knows. Better do your best to keep me alive.”

“It’d be easier for me to keep you alive if you took me with you when you go on patrol.” Keith picked up the dirty rags and other knickknacks James had used to fix his wounds. “I’d have your back and it’d be more efficient than me patching you up afterward.”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

It hadn’t been a serious suggestion. Keith froze in the middle of getting up. He sat back down and turned his attention to James. “What?”

James shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about taking you with us when we go on patrol. You could take care of the horses and our weapons, and you could keep an eye on the camp. Most slaves cannot do that, which is why I’m having some difficulty turning the regent’s mind around.”

“Shiro wouldn’t object, he knows me.”

“Perhaps not Shirogane, but the baron isn’t very keen on the idea. He isn’t willing to cut you much slack despite the good words the regent and I have for you.”

Keith heaved a sigh. “Stupid Iverson.”

James chucked him under the chin, forcing him to look up. “If I took you on a patrol, Keith, would you try running away?”

Their gazes met. James’ light brown eyes were intent, earnest. They were no longer joking, this was serious.

Keith gave the question serious consideration. Would he try running away if he were allowed outside the compound? Would he take that chance? Would he dare slip away in the night? No. He’d already come to the conclusion that running away was the worst thing he could actually do. He needed to be _let go_ of. Otherwise, he’d be trading the life of a slave for the life of a _runaway_ slave. Yes, slaves weren’t respected and weren’t always treated right, but runaway slaves _always_ died in the most painful imaginable ways. Keith hadn’t endured months without his freedom only to be butchered like an animal.

No. Keith was smart. He’d learned to be patient. He wouldn’t stumble now. He could tell his ensnaring of James was working far better than he had ever imagined. James was fascinated by him. He could feel his eyes on him whenever they were in the same room. Keith was pretty sure that the other man would give him nearly anything should he ask for it. Hell, he was offering to bring Keith on patrol—what was this if not a sign of utmost trust?

Another few months, Keith told himself. He had to be patient for another few months. Same time next year, he was confident James would be so besotted he’d never be able to refuse him anything.

Keith looked back at James earnestly. “I wouldn’t. Where could I go, anyway? I assure you, the life of a runaway slave doesn’t interest me at all.”

“And a lifetime spent as my lover interests you more?”

Keith snorted. “A _lifetime_? Let’s not be too hasty, James. You’ll discard me soon enough. I doubt you’ll still want me when I’m no longer pretty.”

“You really think that’s the only reason I want you?” James asked, combing a strand of hair out of Keith’s face.

“I really don’t see why else you’d want me.”

Had James already fallen for him? It seemed unlikely, way too fast. And yet he couldn’t forget that James thought they’d met before. What if his feelings sprung from that time, then? What if those feelings were the reason why he’d saved Keith’s life in the first place?

“You’re such a child when you want to be,” James said, not unkindly. “Oops, I put blood on your face, sorry.”

Keith grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tugged him close enough that their lips nearly touched. “Who cares about a little blood?”

James’ breath was hot and ragged against his cheek. His eyes were hazy with a mix of pain, blood loss, and arousal. “I wish I weren’t too dizzy to kiss you,” he mumbled.

“What a lightweight.” Keith pushed him back until he tumbled backward on the bed. “Rest. I don’t want you to faint”

James suddenly looked too tired to talk. His eyelids drooped. He remained where he’d sprawled, body growing slacker. Keith sighed in exasperation. He tugged James’ boots off and helped him lie down in a more comfortable position. When he made to leave, James grabbed him by the wrist.

“You’re such a sap,” Keith grumbled, and lied down beside the other.

-

“Can you still ride?” James asked a few days later.

Keith looked up from his clumsy mending of his tunic, quirking an eyebrow. “Is that a sexual innuendo?”

“You told me you’re a virgin, how can you know about that?”

“I’m a virgin, that doesn’t mean I’m dumb, idiot. But yes, I can still ride a horse, which is what I assume you mean.”

“Want to go for a ride?”

Keith refused to let excitement get the better of him. Carefully, he put down his half-mended tunic to ponder James’ question. Was this a trick? It didn’t seem likely; there had never been tricks between them, or at least nothing remotely cruel.

“Really?” he found himself asking.

“Yes. I need some proof that you won’t bolt the second we’re out of here if I want to take you on my next patrol.” James’ face was serious. “If you prove you’re trustworthy, the regent will consider my request.”

Keith’s hands had gone clammy. He lowered his eyes, surveying the hole in his tunic he’d tried fixing. The stitches were crooked, the hole made the more glaring by their unevenness. Could this be true? Could this be his chance to leave the compound for the first time since his arrival? He realised his heart beat a hard, steady drum inside his chest. He could feel James’ eyes on him, studying his body language for any hint of gleefulness. Despite everything they’d shared so far, there was still a tiny inch of mistrust, which served to prove that James wasn’t stupid despite his feelings.

“I told you hundreds of times; I’ve got nowhere to go, James. I won’t bolt. It’s not because I enjoy being a slave or being _your_ slave—I simply value my life.”

“I suppose this is the first great test, then. Come on, let’s go.”

And, half an hour later, Keith found himself in a saddle, Baron Iverson’s compound behind him. The horse James had lent him wasn’t a warhorse; it would shy at the first sniff of blood. It was nonetheless a placid beast, easygoing and obeying willingly enough to Keith’s commands, if somewhat too old for a grand chase should he try to run. Clever James, he’d thought of everything. The saddlebags were empty too—the canteens of water were packed in James’ own saddlebags.

At least he hadn’t tied their horses together.

Keith couldn’t bring himself to care much for the moment. He tilted his head back, letting the warm sun caress his skin. Its warmth reminded him of the happy summer days of his youth.

The road they followed was well-travelled with clippers and cogs going on about the barony’s business. Fellow clippers nodded at James while everybody else kept their eyes averted the second they caught sight of the sword at his hip. Nobody spared Keith any mind.

Long, broad fields extended on both sides of the road as far as the eye could see. Except for the sounds of a few very rare automobiles in the distance, the air only thrummed with birdsong and footsteps on the dirt path. Away from the compound, Keith realised how much he’d missed the sound of silence. The tall grass sighed and bended in the wind that ruffled his hair. It was a glorious day and he wished he could kick at his horse’s flanks and race down the road.

He resisted the urge however. He could feel James’ eye boring into his back, willing to catch him the second he tried slipping away. His horse was spirited and looking forward to be given any slack; it’d be on top of Keith’s old nag in the blink of an eye. No, Keith wasn’t willing to risk such terrible odds, not anymore. Being a slave had made him cautious, made him calculating. He’d get away soon, on his own terms and when it suited him best.

So he allowed himself to relax, his muscles going loose. He focused on his senses to feel the wind tugging at his hair, to feel the warmth against his skin, to smell the earthy smells of a healthy barony, to hear the birds singing and the clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves on the tight-packed earth of the road. Things would be fine soon, he sensed it.

“What’s with this sudden kindness?” he asked over his shoulder.

“You were looking a little harassed. I thought a ride would do you good.”

Keith scoffed—this wasn’t too far from the truth; he had been going stir-crazy. The routine, the pointlessness of it all, it had been slowly eating at his already raw nerves. It had made him brittle, snappish, in the right frame of mind to start brawls at the slightest provocation. It was only thanks to the iron discipline his mother had drilled into him that he hadn’t fallen into a pit of despair.

This ride was an oddly sweet attention, actually. Keith hadn’t thought anyone, much less James, had noticed his restlessness. He looked down at the reins loosely held in his fist, uncertain how to answer this. He wasn’t used to random acts of kindness from strangers though, at this point, could James still be considered a stranger? Probably not.

“Thanks,” Keith said honestly.

James nudged his horse a little so they were riding closer. The road had widened and traffic had diminished, meaning they could ride side by side without trouble.

Glancing out the corner of his eye, he saw that James was looking relaxed too. The lines of worry around his eyes and mouth had eased a little. He rode with the easy grace of a practiced rider and the loose, deadly grace of an accomplished warrior. When it came to having a master, Keith could have been unluckier. At least James was nice, humane, understanding, close to his own age and, dare he say it, kind of good-looking.

“You’re welcome.”

“James,” Keith began after a short pause, “you said we met before, but I really cannot recall you.”

James laughed, baring his teeth in an amused grin. “I’m not surprised. I wasn’t cutting a nice figure that time.”

This pricked Keith’s attention. He gave the other a onceover. “That’s hard to believe. You hardly ever have a hair out of place.”

Another laugh. “I swear it’s true! I was a colt when we first met. I knew things were different with the Marmora; you don’t have classes like the rest of the baronies do. It was all very confusing to me to see warriors training while others worked alongside servants. I thought it all very barbaric. And I said so out loud, often, to my fellow colts. The regent of the time, Sanda, approved with me. She thought it unseemly that the Marmora clippers would toil in the soil with their slaves and cogs.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, a lot of outsiders thought that way.”

“So, one evening, I met you just outside the village. I think you were back from the fields. I threw you one snarky remark, something about the fact that your parents must be either dead or dumb to let you work alongside slaves. You got pissed instantly and _punched_ me. I never expected this in a million years. You were that scrawny little thing and you floored me instantly. I sprawled in the mud and we probably would have fought it off if someone hadn’t intervened.” James offered him a wry smile. “Shirogane was the clipper training me and he was so angry. He let me off the hook simply because Regent Sanda told him to.”

“Seriously?”

James nodded. “Oh yes, I’m very serious. I was so angry I started resenting you. I saw how friendly to you Shirogane was and it made me hate you even more.  You were that prodigy everybody talked about all the time. Swordplay came easily to you. I had to train for hours to master what you mastered in a day.”

Keith flushed, stung. “Why did you save me if you hate me?”

“I hated you until our baronies parted ways and I realised my hatred was actually jealousy. When I caught sight of you on the battlefield, I was always so impressed by how far you’d come. I’m actually relieved we never had to fight one-on-one; I’m not sure I’d have won.”

“Well, you won in the end. _I_ ’m the slave now.”

James shrugged. “That’s not how I wanted things to go. I wish it had all been different. I couldn’t let my rival die.”

Keith didn’t know what to answer to that. “I still don’t remember you.”

“It’s fine, I’m not the only one you punched after all.”

“You’re the only one who liked it enough to save me though.”

James chuckled. “That’s not false.”

They continued in silence for a while. Keith looked up at the vast expanse of blue sky, wondering if his sister and mother were looking at it too. He hoped they were all right, hoped that he could be on his way soon to search for them.

After about an hour, the path split into a crossroads. The left-hand one continued amongst the fields while the one on the right entered a small forest of tall trees. James chose the right-hand path and Keith followed, glad to be out of the burning sun for the moment. The wet scents of pine needles and rotting leaves reached his nose. He inhaled deeply, reminded of his days as a youth when he’d gone hunting with his mother and Acxa. He pushed the memories aside, not wanting the nice afternoon to be spoiled. He was finally out of the confines of the compound and he had every intention of enjoying this illusory freedom.

They rode for another half hour until James suggested they take a break to water the horses. They’d reached a small clearing through which a narrow river ran. The grass was a lush green colour. Overhead, the sun was as its zenith, warming the world with the promise of upcoming summer. Out of the slight wind, the air was warm and cozy.

Keith dismounted and lead his mount to the river. The horse bent her head to drink lazily, ears flicking once in a while. The scene was peaceful, serene. It soothed his nerves further. The gurgling of the water was the only noise to be heard alongside the chirping of birds. Standing there, it was possible to forget, if only for an instant, how the world had been turned topsy-turvy. Keith wondered if it made him a traitor, an ungrateful son or an unworthy brother to be finding a small measure of peace right now. Being captured had muddied everything in his mind. He used to be proud, arrogant, cocky at times. He’d believed himself invincible. He should be chafing more at his imprisonment, shouldn’t be placidly accepting it. He should be planning ways to drown James in the river, take his sword and his horse, and run for it.

Except that it would be cowardly. Keith realised with horror that striking down someone who trusted him would make him more than a traitor; it would make him a coward. Betraying James was one thing, but killing him while he left his back willingly exposed was unthinkable.

This was too much moral dilemma for someone who’d never had to worry about morality in his life.

He crouched on the muddy bank, dipped his cupped hands into the water, and drank. The cool liquid slid down his throat easily, calming his hot thoughts. He repeated the process until the taste of bile vanished from his mouth. The water was still chilly from the early spring thaws. He splashed some of it over his face, letting it cool his skin. When he opened his eyes, he saw that James was gazing at him intently, his own eyes following a droplet of water sliding down Keith’s neck.

Right, his plan.

Keith stood up. “I’m going for a swim.”

He tugged his tunic over his head while James gaped at him. Keith ignored him, toeing off his boots and pulling his trousers down. He felt the other man’s hot gaze on him, taking in every inch of exposed skin. Keith didn’t mind much; he’d grown used to it over the past months. If anything, it was useful that James found him so attractive.

A swim might not have been the greatest of ideas. He gasped as his foot dipped into the suddenly freezing water. In seconds his whole legs became numb. He didn’t let it stop him—James sat on the bank and observed him, his expression a mix of lust and amusement. Keith knew that amusement; James was certain he’d back off because of the cold. Well, he wouldn’t.

The cold became more tolerable after a few minutes of energetic swimming. The river wasn’t very deep nor was it very large. He felt the scrape of small stones when he put his feet down. The cool water did feel good actually, bracing, cleansing.  He dunked his head underwater a few times, relishing the silence that came with it.

After a while, his body reminded him that swimming in freezing currents wasn’t the best of ideas. His limbs became numb and he could no longer ignore his chattering teeth. With a sigh, he trudged his way towards the bank, combing his fingers through his wet hair to push it away from his face. He stood there for a moment, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. The sunrays felt amazing on his chilled skin.

He opened his eyes to see James gaping at him. Keith’s cheeks heated—this hadn’t been part of his plan. He hadn’t planned to expose himself in the nude like that. He’d forgotten himself. Nevertheless, a tiny part of himself relished the hot gaze. He’d never expected it, but it felt good to be desired. It even felt empowering. He wasn’t sure James would be staring this intently at him if he’d had a sword at his throat.

“See something you like?” he asked, wringing his hair.

James was a disaster, something Keith hadn’t expected. He gulped, face red, eyes huge while they roamed helplessly all over his body. Keith could tell he didn’t want to be so obvious about yet couldn’t help himself. Keith wasn’t certain why—he’d never found himself particularly attractive. Judging by James’ expression however, it was as if an old-time god of lust had just stepped out of the water to seduce him.

And wasn’t what Keith had set out to do?

Before James had time to say or do anything, Keith marched to him, pushed him hard enough that he stumbled back and sat down heavily, and knelt between his spread legs. James made a garbled sound at the back of his throat when Keith undid his trousers with hands that shook only slightly. The chill was only a memory now, replaced by a hot flush of desire that thickened the blood in his veins. James didn’t protest when he snaked a cold hand inside his trousers and closed his fingers around his hardening dick.

This had become ritual by then. Keith was now nearly as familiar with James’ dick as he was with his own. He knew how to touch, how to squeeze, where to apply pressure to make James go crazy. Not that it was that difficult to start with; everything he did seemed to arouse James. Keith barely understood it, only knew he was lucky and had to exploit this character flaw.

He tugged down James’ trousers and underwear as far as they would go in his seated positon, freeing his dick from the fabric confines. It stood hard and proud under the sunny sky. James panted hard, not once trying to stop Keith. He didn’t seem to mind much having his privates exposed this way to the outside world.

Keith moved his hand up and down, listening intently to the gasps and grunts that escaped from James’ gritted teeth. He looked up from his work, offering a lazy, knowing smile. Seeing James’ flushed face and dark eyes was satisfying in a way Keith wasn’t ready to admit. He returned his attention to the dick in his hand.

Hand jobs were getting old. Maybe it was time to try something new. He licked his lips, thinking. He’d done this once before. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure whether his inexperience would put James off. Then, he decided it hardly mattered because he wanted to do it. So he leaned down and gave the tip of the dick a tentative lick. Judging by James’ stifled exclamation, this was the way to go. Keith tried not to grin.

The position wasn’t very comfortable; the grass under his naked belly itched and he would be covered in dirt afterward. He couldn’t really bring himself to care, not when he felt James’ fingers pushing gently on the back of his head, urging him on. Keith lowered his head once more, taking more of the hard member in his mouth. The stretch wasn’t so bad, but it annoyed him that he couldn’t take more without choking. He hollowed his cheeks, trying to listen to the sounds James made to guide him. His eyes watered a little as he took more. His hand remained on whatever didn’t fit in his mouth. He swirled his tongue, saliva dribbling down against his will. He moaned a little, curiously turned on.

James tightened his fingers in his hair without forcing him down further. He let him work at his own pace, once in a while giving a pointer. Keith pulled back to catch his breath, panting. James’ dick was wet with his saliva, the tip getting an angry red. Keith knew this meant he was nearing his climax. He swallowed once before lowering his head with renewed vigor. James swore loudly as he dragged his tongue under his dick slowly. He littered it with small kisses and licks before taking it into his mouth once more. It twitched against his tongue. Keith refused to gag when the tip accidently poked the back of his throat. He blinked the tears away from his eyes. He gave a few sucks, his hand moving.

James came with a muffled curse. His come flooded Keith’s mouth before he had time to pull back. He swallowed convulsively, the taste foreign and weird. He waited until he was certain James had spilled himself completely before pulling back. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

He couldn’t help grinning mischievously at the other man’s wrecked expression.

“Good?” he asked, voice rough.

James’ answering grin did weird things to Keith’s stomach. “Lacking refinement, but your enthusiasm made up for it.”

“Ah?” Keith quirked an eyebrow. “And you could do better?”

The second he’d uttered those words, he knew he’d made a mistake. The world rocked and he found himself staring at the blue sky. Blades of grass tickled the skin of his back. His knees were pushed apart and wet heat engulfed his dick. Keith gasped, eyes going wide as all the blood that hadn’t been south already rushed there. His hips jerked upwards. James chuckled, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure all the way up his spine. Keith didn’t dare look down. He closed his eyes, biting on one of his hands to muffle his moans while the other instinctively went to grab hold of James’ hair. A tongue swirled around his dick, bringing another nearly unbearable wave of pleasure. He’d thought he’d liked receiving hand jobs, but this was on another level entirely.

And it got even better: James turned him so he was on his belly and hoisted him up until he was on his hands and knees. Keith couldn’t stop the groan of pleasure that escaped his lips when he felt a hot tongue against his hole. The sensation was so new, so unexpected that he didn’t know whether to lean into it or away from it. James grasped his hip, holding him in place. His tongue circled his hole, pulling moans from him that he couldn’t bite back. Embarrassed, aroused more than he’d ever been in his life, Keith buried his hot face into his arms. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing back into that clever tongue. Shakily, he reached between his legs to tug at his neglected erection. The combined assault of tongue and hand made him whimper. His legs shook. The coil of heat in his belly became nearly unbearable.

He cried out when the tongue pushed inside his hole before being joined by a finger. Keith tensed before doing his best to relax. He panted, slowing his hand down because he didn’t want to come just yet. He’d fingered himself before, but having someone else doing it was different. James was being careful—he knew Keith was a virgin and they didn’t have lube. He didn’t push further than the second knuckle of his forefinger, keeping the stretch at the minimum. This wasn’t enough; Keith wanted more. He groaned, trying to push back despite James holding him down.

“Keith, stop that,” James said sternly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The fingers of Keith’s free hand turned into claws, digging into the grass. He huffed out a breath, a mix of a moan and a groan of annoyance. He started jerking himself off again, imagining how better it would feel when something bigger than one stupid finger was pushed inside him. His toes curled in pleasure. His muscles tightened. Sweat broke out on his skin. His spine bowed further as he unconsciously pushed his ass back on that tongue. A few more jerks of his hand and he came with a shouted curse, spilling all over his fingers and on the grass beneath him.

James kissed his hole then the dip of his back before pulling him back in a sitting position. Keith found himself seated on James’ lap, panting and still shaking from the violence of his release. His body tingled everywhere. He was utterly aware of every inch of his skin that was in contact with James.

“Was that good enough for you?” James asked, tone amused.

Keith’s head lolled back to rest on James’ shoulder. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m not. I’m genuinely curious.”

Keith’s cheeks burned. He hoped James couldn’t see his blush. “Yeah, that was… good. Unexpected, but good.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I want you to have fun too.”

This seemed like an odd thing to say. Keith frowned. “Why?”

James paused like he was taken aback by the question. He gently turned Keith’s head a bit so their eyes could meet. “I want this to be consensual. I don’t want it to be one-sided. Keith, I really hope that’s not the vibe you got from this.”

The dread in James’ expression was fascinating. Keith felt too mellow, too relaxed to tease him about it. “No, it’s not,” he said with a small sigh. “It’s all fine, don’t worry.”

James searched his face for any trace of a lie. When he found none, he said: “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”

Keith hummed. They remained like that for a long moment. Keith’s heartbeat calmed. His blood cooled. His eyelids drooped. He probably would have fallen asleep right there if James hadn’t shaken him gently, urging him back into his clothes so they could go back.

And for some reason, Keith was disappointed by this.


	5. Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith heaved a sigh. He turned the pillow over, hoping the cool side would somehow work enough magic to let him fall asleep. Something clattered to the floor, startling him. He bent over the side of the bed to walk his fingers over the floor. They encountered a small object and what appeared to be a piece of paper. Curious, he picked it all up and sat up. This was definitely a piece of paper. He unfolded it curiously, angling towards the shaft of white moonlight to read.
> 
> _‘Hey, kitten. Sorry I have to be gone for a month. Have fun. James.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Enjoy this new chapter!

“What do you mean you’ll be gone for a whole month?” Keith demanded.

He didn’t sound aghast, didn’t sound annoyed. He refused to sound anything but pissed. He could feel James’ friends’ gazes boring into the back of his head while he stared at James, waiting for an answer.

That coward James had intended to slip away while Keith was away working in the fields. Unlucky for him, an unexpected downpour had forced the workers home earlier than intended. Keith had caught James red-handed packing, and the guilty look on his face had told him he’d had no intention of bidding him goodbye. Something hurt under Keith’s breastbone that he didn’t understand. He ignored it, pushing the pain away to focus on glaring.

Behind him, the three others wisely shuffled away.

James straightened, abandoning his saddlebags in favour of turning his attention to Keith. He looked tired, Keith realised with a jolt. His complexion was bad. There were dark circles around his eyes and a defeated slump to his shoulders.

The pain in Keith’s chest intensified. “James, what’s going on?”

James heaved a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back that damn brown lock that kept falling over his forehead. “Daibazaal is making trouble.”

Daibazaal—the barony Marmora had emerged from, had _separated_ itself from. So many associated them together still even though they’d parted ways nearly three decades ago. Keith wished he could say he was surprised. Everybody in Marmora had known Daibazaal to be troublemakers, bent on conquests. They’d hidden it well during the last ten years, allying itself with Atlas and many others under the pretense of crushing Marmora. Keith couldn’t begin to understand how anyone was surprised at this reversal of situation.

“They’re raiding your borders,” Keith guessed.

James nodded. “Yes. We’ve been pushing them back gently at first because Baron Iverson didn’t want to cause strife. He’s talked to Baron Zarkon without much success. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that it’s open war between the two baronies, but it might get there sooner than we’d like.”

“I see. And you’re going to fight them now?”

“They’ve encroached in the east. They were warned not to cross the river.” James scoffed. “Apparently, they don’t know what’s a river because they’ve entrenched themselves on our side of the bank.”

Keith offered a tiny smile. “Knowing Baron Zarkon and Regent Sendak, they’ll say they didn’t think this was the river you were talking about.”

“They said they considered it a _rivulet_ , not a river, that’s an honest mistake. That’s bullshit. So yeah, we’re going to dislodge them.”

“You’ll be careful, yeah?”

Keith’s eyes widened. This wasn’t what he’d meant to say. The words had left his mouth unprompted, sounding the more honest for it. James too looked taken aback by this candour.

“I will, I promise. And you’ll take care of yourself too, won’t you?”

What could he say? The intensity of James’ gaze pinned him into place. It made it difficult to breathe. His blood pounded hard in his ears. His throat felt tight. What was wrong with him suddenly?

“Y-yeah.”

Seemingly suddenly reaching a decision, James marched to him and kissed him. This wasn’t the usual biting kisses they exchanged; this was almost chase, a mere press of the lips. Keith’s knees felt weak. He grabbed the front of James’ shirt to ground himself, twisting his fingers into the fabric. James cupped his jaw, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Keith closed his eyes, opening his mouth. He wrapped an arm around James’ neck, pulling him closer.

The delicate knocking on the door startled them both. They each took a step back, face an identical shade of red.

“Are you ready to go, James?”

“Y-yes Regent Shirogane!”

Keith looked up with horror to see Shiro leaning against the doorframe, a small smile on his lips as he took in the scene. He ducked his head, letting his hair fall over his burning face. In the meanwhile, James picked up his saddlebag and left the room without a look behind, oozing embarrassment.

“I’ll bring him back in one piece,” Shiro assured Keith.

“I want the both of you to come back in one piece.”

Shiro laughed. “I promise to do my best, boss.”

And with that he was gone.

Keith was used to the solitude by now. He spent as many nights with James as he spent alone, but this felt different. Usually, whenever James left on patrol, he did so without looking too worried. Seeing him leave full of apprehension was a new thing Keith didn’t like. This meant things were getting serious and dangerous out there.

He had the room to himself that night. This wasn’t a first, but it did feel off. Keith had grown used to James’ presence or the presences of his friends. It felt odd to be truly alone without a cough or a snore to keep him company. The bed felt too large, too cold without James in it. Keith tossed and turned for a long while, chasing sleep that just wouldn’t come. He hated this because not sleeping meant too much thinking, which was something he’d been doing his best to avoid recently. Not sleeping also meant worrying and Keith was getting sick of worries.

To make things worse, the full moon hung high in the sky, its light falling through the opened window to brighten the room. He could see every piece of furniture in black relief. It seemed too bright for his somber mood.

Keith heaved a sigh. He turned the pillow over, hoping the cool side would somehow work enough magic to let him fall asleep. Something clattered to the floor, startling him. He bent over the side of the bed to walk his fingers over the floor. They encountered a small object and what appeared to be a piece of paper. Curious, he picked it all up and sat up. This was definitely a piece of paper. He unfolded it curiously, angling towards the shaft of white moonlight to read.

‘ _Hey, kitten. Sorry I have to be gone for a month. Have fun. James._ ’

His cheeks burned at the words. _Kitten_. James had called him that a few times, mostly on accident. Keith had told him he didn’t particularly appreciate pet names, but James must have known this was a lie. For some reason, the first time he’d been called kitten, his heart had done weird summersaults in his chest. He’d been so stunned he hadn’t been able to say anything. He’d mostly gaped while James did his best to appear unbothered. Keith was starting to know him well enough to read his body language; the pet name had slipped accidently. He’d never planned on using it. It had made Keith realise that he’d probably been using it in his head, which had embarrassed him further.

He looked at the object that had apparently been wrapped inside the piece of paper. For a second, he had absolutely no idea what he was looking at: it was a few inches long, not very wide, kind of cylindrical, and it reminded him of the shape of a—

Keith flushed.

A dick. It was shaped like a dick. Holy shit, this had to be a dildo.

He gulped, hands suddenly clammy. Okay, so this was why James had said _have fun_. Had James actually gone through the trouble of buying him a toy just so he would have fun during his month alone? Keith didn’t know what to think of this attention; he was both embarrassed and oddly turned on by it.

He squeezed his fingers around it, feeling the texture and slight yield of the material. The size was roughly the same as James, so it felt familiar in his hand.

He realised without much surprise that he was getting hot under the collar. All thoughts of sleeping had fled his silly head already. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to go to sleep after this, not with how turned on he was. He was a bit embarrassed at how hard he’d gotten from simply holding a fake dick. He palmed himself through his pants distractedly.

His eyes went back to the dildo. Should he? He swallowed. He didn’t know if he should, but he sure as hell knew he _wanted_ to. So why not do it? He always slept like the dead after a good climax—he couldn’t work tomorrow if he was exhausted.

He huffed, embarrassed even though there was nobody to follow his inner dilemma. When he went to replace the pillow after flipping it to its cooler side, he saw that James really didn’t forget anything: there was a small jar of lube to go with the dildo. Keith’s cheeks burned, and he didn’t know whether to be thankful or pissed at the other man. Was James proud of this?

Or would James be imagining him using the dildo? Would he like that?

For some reason, this pushed Keith over the edge.

Heart hammering inside his chest, he pushed back the blankets and shucked his pants. He was already embarrassingly hard. He wondered if he should jerk off once to release some of the tension before deciding against it. He liked being worked up.

He ignored his dick for the moment to focus his attention on the jar of lube. His hands shook just a tiny bit when he opened it. The viscous liquid didn’t smell like much. He dipped two fingers into it, scooping up a small quantity. Wriggling about, he took the pillow and put it under his hips to give himself better access. He spared a thought to the fact that anyone walking in could see him entirely exposed like that before discarding it entirely—it had never happened before and it wouldn’t happen now.

Taking a small breath, Keith bent his knees, spread his legs, and slipped his hand between his thighs. The angle wasn’t quite the best, but it would do for the moment. Sighing, he gently circled his entrance with his lubed fingers. He twitched at the contact of the cool liquid before relaxing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling. It was easy to relax if he simply emptied his thoughts. His breathing kicked up a notch when he gently inserted one finger easily. He’d done this numerous times before, but it felt different for some reason. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in a hurry, maybe it was because the bedsheets retained a hint of James’ smell, maybe it was because he was imagining James standing at the foot of the bed, watching him, his eyes dark with lust.

He didn’t notice the small moan escaping his lips as he pushed a second finger. He did feel the stretch this time, nothing he couldn’t easily handle. It actually felt good. He nonetheless took his time, pumping his fingers in and out, scissoring them. The fingers of his other hand grasped the sheet beneath him. His dick was getting painfully hard and painfully difficult to ignore. He still ignored it in favour of adding a third finger. This time, he did hiss a little. He removed his fingers to add more lube before pushing them back in. His hole felt tight and warm. His passage squeezed around his fingers. He paused, taking a breather, doing his best to relax further. He rarely got up to three fingers—usually there wasn’t much time and he was in a hurry to get off.

Refusing to be hurried, he worked his fingers in his hole until the sting diminished to nothing. He panted hard by then, breath catching in his throat. It would be so easy to jerk himself up, to bring himself over in a delicious climax. He refused to surrender that easily. Shakily, he pulled his fingers out of himself to grab the dildo. In the half-darkness, it was difficult to guess its colour. He looked at it for a moment, hot all over. He closed his eyes, imagining how it would feel to be breached by it. He’d never used a toy before. Would it feel like the real thing? Would it feel better than fingers?

He had to find out. Hands shaking, Keith rubbed a good coating of lube over the dildo. Then, he shifted his position so he was on his hands and knees, hoping the angle would be better. The only time he’d managed to reach his prostate had been when he’d positioned himself this way and he hoped for a repeat.

His body resisted at first. He could only push the tapered tip of the dildo in before his hole tightened too much. Keith grunted in annoyance, getting frustrated at his own stupid reactions. He took deep breaths, forcing himself to relax, telling himself there was no need to hurry. The morning was still hours away, he had all the time in the world. He tugged a few times at his dick, bringing it back to full hardness. It helped. He breathed out before pushing the toy gently. It slipped in another inch. Its textured material felt amazing against his walls. He moaned unwillingly.

Bending his back further, pushing his ass up, he took the toy inch by inch. By the time it was fully in, he was shaking and bathed in sweat. He paused then, savouring the feeling of being so incredibly full. He was painfully hard, his dick leaking. His body felt like a livewire, the mere contact of the bedsheets against his skin making his nerves sing.

Would this feel this way when James finally fucked him? If using a toy felt this good, how amazing would it be to have the real thing?

Keith shivered at the thought. He reached behind himself to take hold of the toy. He slowly pulled it out, gasping as it rubbed against his sensitive insides. He pushed it in again with the same agonizing slowness. His mouth hung open as he panted, body alive with sensations. Once he’d gotten used to the feeling, he angled the dildo differently.

Stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. He gasped, panting hard. Tentatively, he moved the dildo in the same way and the same pleasure erupted. He nearly came from it, managing to hold back at the last second.

“Fuck, fuck…”

He waited a few seconds to calm down. Then, he pulled the toy back and shoved it back in at that same angle. A strangled cry escaped from his opened mouth. The burning in his belly coiled tight. He tried holding it back, fucking the dildo inside himself, but the relentless assaults against his prostate made it impossible.

He came all over the bedsheets without having to touch himself. He shook with the strength of his release. His hole clamped around the toy as he kept pushing it against his prostate until it became almost painful to do so.

He slumped, boneless, barely managing not to lie in his own mess. He left the toy inside him for the moment. His panting breaths sounded loud in the empty bedroom.

It seemingly took him a long time before he came down from his high. By then his sweat had cooled on his skin, leaving him cold. He felt no urge to move or cover himself. His body had gone soft, limp. He gave himself another a few minutes before he gently removed the toy. He winced as it pulled free, lube sliding out to further mess the sheets. Putting it aside for the moment, he curiously touched his hole. It felt obscenely stretched. Despite the embarrassment, he slipped two fingers inside himself, sighing. His dick twitched with renewed interest.

He considered going at it again before changing his mind. He was relaxed now, languid enough to fall asleep. Haphazardly, he cleaned himself up using his discarded pants. By the time he tugged the blankets over his body, he was nodding off.

-

The first two weeks of James’ absence went by slowly. Keith focused on his work, focused on remaining unnoticed by everybody on the compound. A third of the clipper force had gone with the baron and regent to face Daibazaal, which left the place feeling empty. There was an air of indolence now that Iverson and Shiro weren’t there to supervise. Keith didn’t know those left in charge, but they certainly didn’t command the same kind of respect these two did.

He kept his head low and worked. More and more, he found himself looking eastward where the barony’s border had been breached. What was happening? Who was winning? Every day a few clippers came back, either hurt or maimed or dead. Others were sent out to replace those who’d fallen. Keith was a mere slave so nobody thought it important to keep him informed. He kept an ear out, trying to hear news of James or his friends or of Shiro. He tried telling himself it was out of selfishness; if James fell, there was no telling what would happen of Keith. He was here only thanks to James’ generosity. Without him, Keith reverted to being a captured enemy soldier, one whose barony had once been part of the barony the Atlas people were fighting.

There was more to it than self-preservation however. It galled him to admit it even in his own mind, but he was missing James. Although they hadn’t spent every minute of every day side by side, they’d spent enough time together for James to have become a constant in his life. Him being away meant there was a missing piece to his life. Keith didn’t know what this was, what this meant, only that every day he was looking forward to James’ return. It meant that every time new soldiers came back from the front wounded, he kept dreading James would be among them.

It didn’t happen. For the first three weeks nothing of the sort happened.

Until it did.

It was raining hard and the cogs and slaves working in the fields were being sent home. The thick cover of clouds blocked the sunlight, leaving the world grey and washed out. The ground underfoot was soggy with water. Everybody was soaked to the skin, miserable, mud sticking to their legs up to their knees.

The path from the field to the barracks took Keith near the front gates of the compound. He saw a few riders approaching in the distance, galloping hard. The others with him stopped to watch, muttering between themselves, wondering who the unlucky bastards were this time. He stopped to watch too with a sense of dread. Despite the heavy rain falling like a grey curtain, despite the distance, he knew, he just knew.

His legs went weak. His stomach dropped. Whatever tool he’d been holding fell from his nerveless fingers. He knew that stance, knew that back.

Ignoring the slave master who shouted at him to come back, Keith bolted. His world narrowed to that small group dressed in white and orange dirty garments, to those tired horses covered in mud, to the blotches of blood, to the unmoving body tied to the saddle.

Nadia saw him first. She was the one leading the other horse. She was soaked and her dark hair stuck to her bloodless face. She looked half-dead in her saddle although there didn’t seem to be blood on her. The others with her were wounded, though none as severely as—

“James,” Keith breathed out.

“Keith,” Nadia said. “Keith, listen to me. Take James to town. There’s a doctor there, he’ll take care of him.”

She threw him the lead. Keith caught it between his numb fingers. He instinctively understood; she needed to take care of the others. James was more far gone. He required medical attention immediately. Keith looked at him slumped in his saddle, keeping his seat only because his hands had been tied together around his horse’s neck. He wasn’t moving. The back of his uniform was torn and soggy with blood. Whatever makeshift bandage had been applied wasn’t doing the trick.

“Go!” Nadia screamed at him, voice breaking with worry for her friend.

He nodded. The doctor, he knew who she meant. Shiro’s boyfriend, Adam, he was a doctor. He had a clinic in town, Shiro had told him a long time ago.

James’ horse was exhausted. It snorted in protest when Keith heaved himself in the saddle behind him. He wrapped an arm around James, trying to press him against him to keep him mildly warm. His skin felt cold as ice. He threw one last look at Nadia, turned the horse’s head, and kicked at its flanks. Either sensing his desperation or its master’s needs, it pushed back fatigue to lurch forward. The saddle wasn’t designed for two riders. Their weight put strain on the poor animal’s back, yet it trotted willingly enough down the road.

Keith wanted to push it, to urge it, but he knew they were done for if the horse slipped on the muddy ground. The last thing he needed was for it to throw a shoe or break a leg. So he kept it to a canter, knowing even that was risky. The horse’s flanks were lathered white with exhaustion. It blew hard without actually slowing its pace. Keith urged it on.

Against him, James remained unmoving. Keith felt him breathe and felt his heartbeat, but it was all weak. From up close, he could glimpse the gaping wound that ran from one shoulder nearly to the opposite hip where the bandage had slipped. It looked deep and jagged, nasty.

Keith shook his head, trying to get his wet hair out of his eyes. He kicked at the horse again, apologizing to it and feeling horrible, but unable to do anything else with that sense of urgency that nipped at his heels. James’ wound still bled. His life was bleeding away and that fucking horse was tiring!

“Fuck! Hurry up, for fuck’s sake!” he yelled.

His voice was swallowed by a clap of thunder that startled the horse. Stupid warhorse was getting so exhausted even thunder was scaring it. Keith tugged at the reins, fearing that the horse would just bolt or throw them off.

He only had the vaguest of idea where the town was. He should have asked Nadia for better directions. He kept his gaze firmly pinned on the dome of light that glowed on the other side of the trees—this had to be the town. Nothing short of a town would give off that much light.

By the time the trees thinned to make room for dwellings, the horse had grown too tired to canter. It didn’t care for Keith’s shouts or his kicks or desperation. It walked with its head hung low, and Keith knew he had to let it rest before it collapsed from exhaustion. He looked around, unsure where to find the clinic Adam kept or even if this were the right town he’d stumbled into. There were pedestrians going about their business despite the rain, and one of them finally agreed to point him in the right direction. The horse trudged on dutifully, most likely fueled only by instincts.

All the buildings looked the same to Keith’s desperate eye. He saw tenements, whorehouses, shops, all of them pell-mell with no sense that he could understand. He kept grumbling under his breath, swearing, cursing. And then he saw it, a small construction nestled between two larger ones with a sign at the front of a faded red cross. A strangled sound of relief escaped from Keith’s throat. The horse pulled to a grateful stop and he slid down its side. James didn’t move, only grunted as he was jostled about. The rope used to tie his hands around the horse’s neck was slippery and Keith’s fingers were clumsy with nerves. He unsheathed James’ sword and cut the cord. Immediately, James’ unresponsive body slumped sideways, forcing Keith to catch him awkwardly. He had no idea where to grab him to avoid causing further pain.

He wrapped one of James’ arms around his neck and dragged him towards the door of the clinic. “Come on,” he muttered, “we’re almost there. You better not die on me, James!”

He pulled on the door. It didn’t open. Keith could have wept. He pulled again. Nothing. Whatever was left of his self-restraint poured out of him. With a cry, he grabbed hold of the handle and _yanked_ with all his strength. The door flew open with a splintering sound, swinging wildly to crash against the side of the building.

Keith heaved James inside, dragging with them torrents of water and mud.

“Adam!” he shouted between panting breaths. “Adam, come here!”

James nearly slipped from his grasp. Keith held him better, the adrenaline making it frightfully easy for him to hold James upright.

Keith looked around the small room with growing desperation. It was empty. There were jars on shelves and a reclining chair and a table and a sink, but there was nobody here. Shit, what if Adam was gone for hours? Panic made it difficult to breathe. Keith had no idea what he’d do if there was nobody to help James. They couldn’t go back to the compound, not unless he found another horse. The ride back might be too much for James in his current state.

“What’s going on?”

Keith turned towards the open door to see a man standing there holding an umbrella over his head. It might have been nearly a decade, but Keith would recognize Adam amongst millions. Relief washed over him, threatening to take the remainder of his strength. He stiffened his spine, making sure his grip on James didn’t relent.

“Adam,” he said, “it’s James. He’s been wounded. Please, help him.”

For what seemed like forever, Adam remained on the threshold. His face was impossible to read, his features set in a blank mask. Then, he was moving and everything started happening to fast. He closed his umbrella with a snap, shut the door behind him, and began barking orders. Just like a general, he expected to be obeyed without delays. Keith jumped to it because he simply had no idea what else to do with himself. He laid James face down on the table after removing his ruined shirt and bandages before stepping aside. Under the bright light of the clinic, the wound looked even worse. Keith didn’t think it was life-threatening if only it could be dealt with quickly.

Adam didn’t waste any time. With one glance he seemed to know what to do, which relieved Keith who felt out of his depths. He just stood to the side, holding James’ unresponsive hand while Adam went about cleaning and sewing the wound shut. Once, James startled awake from his stupor and had to be given some medicine that sent him under instantly. Keith watched the bloodied swabs piling high in a bowl, watched the seemingly endless yards of thread Adam stitched into the skin of James’ back. He’d never been squeamish, but this did turn his stomach nonetheless.

The silence in the clinic made him antsy. His clothes were drying on his back. He hadn’t seen to the horse; the animal could have simply walked away never to be found again. His conscience pricked him. Despite this, he simply couldn’t leave James’ side. He clung to his hand like this could somehow help. Adam said nothing, working in silence, never once offering an opinion. He glanced at Keith once, a fleeting look that told him nothing—Keith wasn’t even sure he recognized him from their short acquaintance ten years ago.

After about an hour, Adam finished applying the last of the bandages. He had blood nearly to his elbows by then, droplets staining his white shirt red. James hadn’t stirred once. His breathing was even, his pulse seemingly regular. His skin was deathly pale however with how much blood he’d lost.

“As long as infection doesn’t settle in, he should be all right,” Adam concluded.

Keith’s knees decided right now was an excellent time to turn to jelly. Without Adam catching him, he would have collapsed on the floor. Keeping a strong hand on his elbow, Adam guided him to the nearest bench.

“I’m not so sure about you. When was the last time you ate?”

Keith opened his mouth to answer. He didn’t know. He’d skipped breakfast this morning because he’d woken up late. He’d been sent back to the barracks before lunch because of the rain, so he supposed his last real meal had been yesterday’s supper. It suddenly felt like much longer.

Adam rolled his eyes at him. He washed his hands free of blood before disappearing behind a closed door. When he came back, he handed Keith a bowl of steaming stew. Damn it, how long had he zoned out for?

“Thanks,” he mumbled, eating out of habit. “You sure James’ going to be all right?”

“He’s a healthy man. If we can keep his wounds clean and we change his bandages regularly, he should be fine, Keith.”

Keith looked up at the sound of his name. “You remember me?”

Adam scoffed. “How could I forget the hissing little stray kitten Takashi picked up? You truly have nine lives like a cat, you know that?”

“I suppose.” He nodded towards James. “Thank you for patching him up.”

“It’s my job. It won’t be the first nor will it be the last time I have to patch up a stupid clipper.” Adam crossed his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow. “Are you a clipper too?”

“Didn’t Shiro tell you?”

“Takashi and I aren’t exactly talking for the moment. He did mention you, but he didn’t elaborate on your presence. Judging by the clothes on your back and the sunburn on your nose, I doubt you are a clipper.”

Keith lowered his eyes. For some reason, he was ashamed to admit he was a slave. “I’m a slave. I was captured a few months ago.”

Adam said nothing for a while. “Well, at least you’re alive. Judging by the way you clung to this young man’s hand, I suppose you fell for your master, silly boy.”

Keith looked up fast enough to nearly give himself whiplash. “Excuse me?! I didn’t fall for him! I won’t deny he’s been good to me, but that’s all there is to it!”

“Right, whatever you say, kid. You can stay here with him until he wakes up. I have my rounds to make.”

“W-wait you’re leaving? What do I do if he wakes up? What if he’s in pain?”

Adam pointed to a jar on a shelf. “Give him a few drops of this if he wakes up. It’ll help him sleep. In the meantime, there’s nothing more we can do for him. Let him rest. I don’t need to be in the room to watch him sleep. Just make sure he doesn’t tear his stitches up.”

Keith watched helplessly as Adam picked up his stuff, packed it all in a bag, and excused himself without a glance behind.


	6. Semi-public/Public

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shrug. “I’d rather you come with me. I’ve been missing you.”
> 
> The heat in those words sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound stern. “James, don’t be ridiculous. _Light_ exercise, remember?”
> 
> “Watching won’t tire me overmuch.”
> 
> “W-watch—watching?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thanks for the comments left on the previous chapter! This is the second to last, finally! Don't get discouraged, we're almost done! Enjoy!

Keith spent the rest of the day and the whole night seated by James’ side. Moving him from the table was impossible without hurting him further, so Keith had covered him with a blanket. James woke once, groggy and confused and in pain. Keith gave him the painkillers Adam had mentioned, helped him drink a little water, and then James was asleep again.

Throughout the night Keith observed his face, trying to see if some colour flooded back to his cheeks. He thought James looked a little less pale, that his breathing sounded a little less laboured. He didn’t move much which meant his stitches held. Following Adam’s instructions, Keith changed the dressings every four hours. The first time he’d done it, his hands had shaken so badly it had taken him half an hour. Every touch of his fingertips on James’ skin had made him twitch with fear of further causing pain. Mercifully, James slept through it all, kept under by whatever potion was mixed with the painkillers.

Adam hadn’t wanted to let him spend the night. Keith was a slave; he wasn’t allowed outside the compound unless accompanied. He could be in trouble, especially if Nadia hadn’t told the slave master she’d been the one sending him here. Keith had refused to budge however—he’d be in ever bigger trouble if James died. It was better he stay and take take of him. Adam hadn’t cared enough to argue.

 In the early morning, not long after the rain had relented from downpour to drizzle, James woke up a second time. Keith, who’d been nodding off, sat bolt upright the second he heard the other man move.

James looked terrible with his pale face, messy hair, and glassy eyes. He seemed disoriented as his gaze roamed about. Keith went to him immediately, resting his hand on James’ arm.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t move, okay?”

James’ eyes took a moment to focus on him. “K-Keith. Where am I?”

“Safe. A medic took care of you. Don’t move too much or you’ll pull your stitches.”

James swallowed with difficulty. “The others? There was… I was…”

“Nadia took care of the others. She sent me here with you.”

The tension that had been building up in James’ body lessened. He slumped back on the table with a long sigh. “I’m glad to hear it. How long have I been out?”

“Since yesterday afternoon. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“It’s fine. I’ve known worse.” James frowned. “We aren’t in the barracks. Are we in town? How did we get here?”

“On your horse. Which might have… run off last night. I’m sorry.”

James let out a huff of breath. “He won’t have gone far, I promise.” He paused for a moment. “Keith, did you really do all that? For me?”

And there it was, the very question Keith had been asking himself since they’d arrived here. He gulped. He had no idea how to answer or _what_ to answer mostly because he didn’t have any ready answer. Immediately, his brain jumped into survival mode. He had to say that yes, he’d done all of that for James out of self-preservation—James dying meant Keith’s life would become infinitely more dangerous. Except that it would only be a partial truth. Yes, survival had been at the back of his mind, but it hadn’t been only that. There was no denying the panic that had engulfed him when he’d caught sight of James’ wounds. There was also no denying the sense of urgency that had spurred him on all the way from the compound to the town, or the despair when he’d found the clinic empty. There was no denying he’d watched Adam patch James up with the intensity of a hawk, observing his every movement, ready to intervene should the need arise. There was no denying the slow-burning fear that had kept him on high alert for the whole night.

“Yes,” Keith murmured.

What was the point of lying?

James’ gaze softened. He reached out feebly to gently wrap his fingers around Keith’s wrist. “Thank you. I would have died without you.”

Keith scoffed, looking away. “Don’t be daft. Nothing can kill you.”

“Sendak nearly did.”

“What?! Sendak’s the one who did this?!”

James chuckled. “Yes. I was foolish enough to face him on the battlefield.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No, but I relieved him of his left arm.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

James offered him a grin tinged with pain. “Yes. Half the blood on my clothes is his. He won’t be on the field for quite some time. Are you proud of me?”

“I… I—y-yes, yes I’m proud. It’s possible you single-handedly won this battle.”

“Now you exaggerate, kitten. Baron Zarkon has many other soldiers to throw at us. But thanks nonetheless.”

Keith took a step closer to the table, linking his fingers with James’. “I should let you rest now. You’re still very pale.”

“Yeah, good idea. You’ll stay though?”

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re asleep and I’ll fetch your horse. Then I’m not leaving your side until you’re better.”

James was already drifting off then, his eyelids fluttering shut. He mumbled something, something that sounded very much like _I love you_ that Keith pretended very hard not to hear.

-

Two weeks had passed by the time Adam judged James strong enough to make the trek back home. Not once did Keith leave his side, caring for him as best he could by following Adam’s instructions to the letter. Shiro came to visit a few times, inquiring about James’ recovery and bringing news of the front. Zarkon and his men had been pushed back, though this was a bittersweet victory since the toll had been so grievous.

Whenever Shiro visited, Keith watched with unhidden curiosity his interactions with Adam. They’d been a couple when he’d met them, but they’d apparently broken up since then. There was a note of awkwardness whenever they talked, a sort of heaviness full of unsaid things. Shiro still loved him—his face would light up the second he set eyes on Adam. As for Adam, well, he was more difficult to read. Knowing him however, Keith was pretty sure there must still be a place in his heart for Shiro or he wouldn’t tolerate his presence the way he did.

Shiro had assured Keith that he wasn’t in trouble for having run off with James; Nadia had been sure to talk to the slave master to explain the situation. Afterward, Shiro had also talked to the man to impress on him that Keith’s duties were to be suspended until James was on his feet again. Keith was relieved by this; he’d been fretting about how things would be once they got back.

James was still weak and in some measure of pain by the time they were ready to depart. Keith helped him climb in the saddle despite his protest. He could tell how the simple act of sitting straight pained his back. His lips were pressed into a bloodless line and his eyes were shadowed. Sweat beaded his forehead. Despite this, he looked stronger than he had in days, and Keith thought he’d be all right for the moment.

“You remember what I told you?” Adam asked Keith, handing him a satchel full of vials and clean bandages. “Repeat it to me.”

Keith had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Change his bandages four times a day. Keep them dry. Clean the wounds. Make sure he doesn’t overexert himself. Light duties at first. No swordplay. Plenty of rest, water, and good food. Exercise every day, though nothing more strenuous than walking. Fetch you the second he gets a fever or if the wounds look inflamed.” He offered a sardonic smile. “Did I get all that right?”

“You got the instructions good if not the right attitude. Now, off you go. I cannot keep babysitting you, I have other duties to attend to.”

Keith snorted, hoisting himself up on his borrowed horse. “You seemed pretty glad to have my help sorting through your stuff, Adam. Don’t worry, I’ll tell Shiro you say hi.”

Adam flushed. “I said no such thing! Ugh, off you go, you horrible child.”

Keith laughed and waved Adam off.

They kept a slow pace on the way back to the compound. James said nothing for a while, obviously in some kind of pain, but glad to finally be out in the sunshine. Keith made sure to stay close just in case he felt faint or tired. Once in a while he glanced at the back of his shirt, sure that he’d see blood spreading there.

“You seem to get along very well with Adam,” James commented once they’d left the town.

Keith rolled his eyes. “You must really have been drugged up to your eyeballs to think that.”

“I don’t know him much, but I can tell he’s fond of you. He might not have tolerated you telling him how to do his job otherwise.”

“I did no such thing!”

James smiled, amused. “Yes you did, kitten. You kept nagging at him all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very touched you were brave enough to tell him what to do. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to accept criticism.”

Keith’s face burned. He looked away, annoyed. He kind of had gotten bossy around Adam a few times. Now that James mentioned it, it was a miracle that Adam hadn’t bitten his head off for it.

“My _nagging_ must have paid off since you’re on your feet already,” Keith snapped.

“It did.” James sobered up a little. “Thank you, Keith. Adam did most of the doctoring, but you were always by my side and ready to help. Being bedridden for so long would have been torture without you around.”

Keith kept his gaze pinned on the horse’s mane. Shit, even his ears felt hot now. He didn’t know what to answer. “It didn’t seem right to abandon you,” he grumbled. “A-and it was easier to stay at your bedside than working in the field, so don’t read too much into it.”

The other clippers greeted James warmly the second he stepped into the barracks. They swarmed around him, smiling and cheering and laughing, asking him how it had felt to face Sendak one on one. Keith hovered, glowering. James made a point of standing on his own two feet, answering questions despite obviously being in pain. Once again his face was pale and sweaty, his eyes tight at the corners in a way Keith had learned meant he was in agony. He hid it all behind a veneer of good cheer that costed him greatly.

With Ina’s help, Keith put him to bed after dosing him with a hefty helping of painkiller. Despite the ruckus the other clippers made, James was out like a light in a matter of minutes. Keith touched his skin, making sure it wasn’t too warm or clammy.

“You’re in love with him,” Ina said, matter-of-fact.

“I don’t know,” Keith answered.

He was suddenly weary beyond words. He sagged to the floor, every inch of his body aching. There was nothing restive about taking care of a sick person. Every second had been spent worrying about James. Even in his dreams he’d worried. Now that the danger had passed, now that they were home, the accumulated sleepless nights and anxious days fell on him like a ton of bricks.

He fell asleep seated on the floor with his head pillowed on James’ mattress before Ina had even closed the door on her retreating back.

-

“Adam said light exercise is good,” James argued, pulling the reins from Keith’s hand.

“Riding isn’t light exercise!” Keith retorted, snatching the reins back.

“I wasn’t going to run the horse to the ground! I just want a bit of fresh air!”

They glowered at each other while the horse patiently munched at a bit of hay. The stables were shadowy and cool in the late afternoon heat. Outside, the din of the day continued on; clippers training, cogs working.

“Come on, kitten, it’s been a week. Do I have to beg? I really, really need to get out of the barracks for more than ten minutes. I love my roommates, but they’ve been a tad overbearing lately.”

Keith couldn’t deny it—Nadia, Ina, and Ryan had been hovering like protective mother hens ever since James’ return. Alongside them, many clippers suddenly needed to talk to James. People Keith had never seen stopped by his room to either ask after his wellbeing or ask about his fight against Regent Sendak. Keith, as a slave, was hard put to keep them away, though he did try.

He understood James’ need to get away from this. He was a nice, social guy, but even the most sociable person needed to regrow their bubble.

“Okay,” he grumbled, “I suppose I could let you go for a ride…”

James quirked an eyebrow. “Ah? And what if I wanted you to come with me?”

“Do you? I thought you needed time alone.”

A shrug. “I’d rather you come with me. I’ve been missing you.”

The heat in those words sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound stern. “James, don’t be ridiculous. _Light_ exercise, remember?”

“Watching won’t tire me overmuch.”

“W-watch—watching?!”

James grinned, making him look suddenly more healthy and hale than he had any right to be. He lowered his voice. “I know you’ve been using the little gift I left you.” When Keith made to protest, face burning, he said: “Kitten, the jar of lube is half-empty. I’m glad you liked it, but I’ve got something even better.”

Keith had no idea what to say. He spluttered, torn between embarrassment and arousal. This seemed to have been his constant state of mind for the past few months, actually, and he still wasn’t getting used to it.

In the end, James won because Keith couldn’t, in good conscience, allow him to go on a ride alone. He tried ignoring the smug smile on the man’s face, telling himself he was probably a bit high from his medicine.

They took two horses out. Nobody spared them a look; they were getting used to seeing them together. Now that James had become a sort of hero, it seemed that his fame and coolness extended to his slave too. Keith wouldn’t have minded if people hadn’t looked at them leaving with knowing smirks on their faces. He did his best to ignore them.

The day was gorgeous. At the height of summer, the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. They followed the dirt path through the small woods that had become their usual route. In the shades of the tall trees, the heat became bearable. This was the kind of lazy, hot afternoon that called for indolence and rest, all splashed with a good dose of cool beer. The usual birdsongs had been replaced by the chattering of cicadas in the tall yellowing grass.

Keith allowed himself to relax, allowed himself to bask in the tranquility of the moment. He could tell James was thinking the same; the lines of his body were relaxed, his face peaceful. Out here in the woods it was only them, the trees surrounding them serving as a barrier against the world. It was nice, a welcomed change for Keith who’d also become tired of the people milling about them.

He was the one to call a break first. Although James looked fine, he didn’t want to overtire him too much. They stopped in the same clearing they had all those weeks ago at the beginning of spring. The small river had shrunk in size and the grass had a yellowed hue to it. Still, it was a nice spot.

“Why did you bring your sword if you can’t use it?” Keith asked while he led his horse to the trickle of water. “Adam won’t forgive you if you pull stitches waving it around.”

“I can’t, but you can.”

Keith scoffed. “I haven’t held a sword other than to sharpen it for months. I’m not sure how useful I’d be in a fight.”

“Would you like to train again?”

He’d been looking at the sluggishly running waters. He looked sharply at the words, heart leaping high in his throat. Had he heard right? He refused to jump to conclusions just yet.

“Train?”

“Yes.” James patted his horse’s neck and went to sit on the grass under a tree a small distance away. When Keith joined him, he added: “I asked Regent Shirogane. He said he’d talk about it with the baron. I believe he might manage to sway him. You did save my life, Keith. The baron cannot deny it. It would seem churlish of him to refuse.”

“I didn’t save your life, James, Adam did. I just took you to him.”

“You nearly killed my horse in your hurry to take me to him.” James sighed. “Keith, it would have been easy for you to just dump me in the road and run away. I’m quite sure a lot of slaves would have jumped on that occasion to escape. You didn’t, though.” He offered a wry smile. “When I brought you back, a lot of people, the baron included, told me you’d either run away or slit my throat in my sleep. I told them you wouldn’t, that you were too honourable to do this. You proved me right. Not only did you take me to Adam’s clinic, you stayed by my side. You fed me, you helped me drink, hell, you even helped me go to the loo. I think that deserves a little recognition.”

That pain beneath Keith’s breastbone reappeared, sharp like a stabbing wound. His thoughts whirled. James was right; many slaves would have used the chance of his weakness to run away. But Keith hadn’t. It hadn’t been because he’d wanted to continue on with his plan of seducing James; it had simply never occurred to him to escape. The only thought that had hammered in his mind at the moment had been to get James to someone who could fix him. He’d watched his blood drain away and it had spurred him on more than anything.

The grass blurred a little. He blinked, trying to come up with a comeback.

“You think I’ll be allowed to train with the clippers then?”

James shrugged, a movement that made him wince. “I can only hope so. Baron Iverson is not uncaring nor is he mean. I’m quite sure that Shirogane and I will manage to convince him. I cannot promise it’ll make you a freeman, but it’s progress.”

  It was progress of a sort. Keith focused on that rather than on the reason why he hadn’t tried to escape while James was unconscious. He closed his eyes, imagining himself with a sword again in his hand. He had felt naked without a blade at his hip. He hadn’t been able to train for weeks; he’d be rusty, ridiculous. The other clippers would make fun of his fumbling. In a few months, he was quite certain he’d be at his peak again, ready to take down anyone foolish enough to mock him.

He smiled at James. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

James chuckled. He reached out to touch Keith’s cheek. “You’re going to be a fierce little kitten, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

Keith kissed him. He resisted the urge to throw himself at James, knowing he had to handle him gently. He could feel James smiling against his mouth as his hands slipped into his hair, tugging playfully at the black locks. They hadn’t kissed or touched either for weeks and, suddenly, nothing else mattered. Keith itched for a touch, a caress, anything. He climbed into James’ lap, wrapping his arms around his neck, careful not to touch the healing wound on his back. James’ hands settled on his hips, on his waist, touching every inch of him within reach. Keith moaned into the kiss, opened his mouth willingly. Warmth spread through his chest fast enough to leave him dizzy.

“Careful, kitten,” James said playfully, angling his head away so they could breathe. “You’re eager.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “As soon as I’m healed, I promise I’ll finally take you. I’ll rent a room somewhere in town and it’ll only be the two of us. When I’m done with you, you’ll be the one unable to get out of bed. In the meantime, I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with a toy.”

Keith flushed, head whirling as all the blood in his body rushed south. How could James spew such things with a straight face? How could he be so unabashed? And how was it Keith was so damn affected by the words?

James reached into his pocket and deposited something smooth in Keith’s hand. Looking down, face reddening, he saw this was another sex toy, not the same one James had left with him a month ago. The shape was similar, just as textured, but a bit bigger and heavier.

“Y-you want me to… in front of… I mean… _now_?”

James leaned back against the tree trunk, mindful of his injury, and crossed his arms over his chest. There was hunger in his dark eyes, a hunger that went straight to Keith’s groin. James was looking smug, expectant, yet there was a softness to his expression that had Keith’s heart beating faster for an entirely different reason. There would be no rank pulling. If Keith didn’t want to, James would forget about it all. The small challenge in his posture was for show, for fun.

The bastard. He knew Keith never backed down from a challenge. He tilted his chin up in a show of defiance. Fine, two could play this game.

James grinned. Rummaging once more in his pocket, he handed Keith the half-full jar of lube. He’d planned all this, hadn’t he?

Keith recalled every time he’d used the dildo—once or twice nearly every night. Often he’d imagined James standing at the foot of the bed, watching him, and for some reason it had only heightened everything. This was the real thing this time.

“You’re a bastard,” he said without heat.

James only laughed, only settled better against the tree trunk to watch avidly.

Keith didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to consider. He stood up and began unlacing the front of his trousers. James’ eyes followed every movement hungrily.

Keith toed off his boots and slid the trousers down his legs slowly. Each inch of exposed skin seemed to burn under James’ gaze. It was odd and hot and kind of empowering in a way that still felt new to Keith. At least in the secrecy of his mind, he could admit that he liked it, liked the way James worshipped him silently. It made him forget that he was the slave.

Embarrassment barely registered, smothered as it was beneath a cloud of lust. Once free of his trousers, Keith knelt back on the grass before going on his hands and knees, exposing his naked butt. James’ sharp intake of breath brought a grin to his face. He took his time scooping up lube from the jar, noticing in passing that his hands barely shook at all. It had become such a familiar ritual that he could do it with his eyes closed.

He reached behind himself to slowly insert a first finger. His breathing hitched a little as his finger circled his hole teasingly. He wondered what was going through James’ mind at this moment, wondered what kind of expression was twisting his handsome face. Keith pushed the finger in tentatively, finding it somewhat difficult to relax given the new setting. He exhaled, letting the tension ooze out of his body. The second finger slipped in much easier, pulling a soft whimper from his lips. He chanced a look over his shoulder at James—his wrecked expression was like a punch to the guts. Keith wanted him suddenly, wanted his fingers in him, his tongue, his dick, anything he was willing to give him.

He whimpered again, dick twitching between his legs. He kept expecting James to touch him, but apparently the man had flawless self-control—his arms were still firmly crossed over his chest. The only outward signs that he wasn’t left unaffected by the show were his red face and the bulge tenting the front of his trousers.

By the time Keith inserted a third fingers and spread them, he was shaking. He’d added too much lube in his hurry, and globs of the viscous liquid slid down his thighs. The stretch did feel good however. He couldn’t stop bucking his hips back as he tried to fuck his own fingers. He resisted the urge, knowing it would be useless since he very rarely managed to reach his prostate this way. He needed that stupid toy.

He pulled his fingers out with a low groan. He’d put the dildo beside him on his discarded trousers within easy reach, so he grabbed it and added a generous helping of lube. There was no hiding how his hands shook his time. He nearly salivated in his eagerness to have the toy inside him. A part of him wished James would comment while another was glad for the silence. He gave James another glance—yep, he was still looking as enthralled as before. He’d slipped a hand down his trousers though he didn’t seem to be jerking himself off right now. Keith licked his lips, wondering if perhaps he’d be allowed to suck him off while the toy was inside him.

He cursed under his breath at that thought, his dick once again clamouring for attention. He ignored it, knowing he’d find satisfaction soon enough.

When he deemed the toy lubed up enough, he slowly began inserting it. His back bowed, his hips canting upward as the tip breached his hole. This dildo was slightly larger than the other one, enough that he could feel the difference. It forced him to relax further, pressing his chest hard on the grassy ground beneath him. Dimly he was aware of how debauched he must look with his ass in the air, his hard leaking dick, and his red face. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when that all-encompassing lust fueled him.

Once the first couple of inches were in, it became easier. The grip of Keith’s inner walls on the toy eased as he relaxed completely. He pushed the toy in slowly even as his hips twitched for more. He did his best to breathe evenly, biting his lip in order not to moan too loudly.

It didn’t seem to take very long for the toy to be fully inside him. He breathed out once he was done, taking a moment to appreciate how full he felt. If he were alone in his room, he’d just take a pause there, revelling in the feeling that was nearly as good as the climax that would come after. Moving a little pressed the tip of the dildo against his prostate in a delicious torture.

“Comfortable?” James asked, voice raspy.

Keith shivered. He threw a look over his shoulder at the other, smirking. “Yeah. Enjoying the view?”

“More than you’d think. Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Wha—”

A jolt ran through him that tore a scream from his mouth. His whole body tensed as a wave of pleasure crashed so hard over him he came with another shout. The world went white then dark then white again. Keith, barely able to breathe as the heat was rekindled in his belly, understood that the bloody toy was _vibrating_ inside him. It vibrated against his prostate, pushing him in an agony of pleasure that made no sense.

He had no idea of what he was doing. He clung to the grass with desperation, fingers digging into the soft earth. He pressed his face into the soil, trying to muffle the loud moans and whimpers and curses that flew unchecked from his mouth. Already his dick was hard and leaking, and the muscles in his core were tensing up for another orgasm. He couldn’t hold it back no matter how hard he tried. He came a second time with a shouted curse, body quivering and mind full of white noise.

And still the toy vibrated. Keith had no idea how it worked, only that he didn’t want it to stop. The overstimulation hurt sweetly in a way he hadn’t thought possible. He whimpered desperately, tears running down his cheeks, sweat dampening his hairline. He knew the third orgasm would be as pleasurable as it would be painful. He wanted it as much as he dreaded it.

James suddenly seized his hips and tugged sharply, forcing him to a seated position between his spread legs. This pushed the toy deeper, and Keith would have screamed if James’ hand hadn’t covered his mouth.

“Hush, there’s people,” he breathed in his ear.

Keith’s eyes widened. He tried looking around wildly. James held him close, the damn toy still buzzing away. He thought he heard distant voices coming in the direction of the road. His orgasm crested once more, not at all dampened by the risk of being discovered. Apparently, James didn’t mind either because Keith could feel his hard-on poking at the small of his back.

The moans didn’t relent. Heat burned in his belly, pooling further south. He was drooling all over James’ fingers covering his mouth. He panted hard through his nose, body twitching. The voices were getting closer and Keith tried desperately to hold back. He closed his eyes, trying to be quiet, silently begging James to turn off the toy so they wouldn’t be discovered.

Instead, James’ free hand went between his legs and took hold of his erection. Keith bucked hard. The hand began moving up and down his dick in the exact pattern that drove him crazy every time. This, coupled with the toy vibrating relentlessly against his prostate, was enough to send him over the edge. His back bowed painfully as he came with a silent scream. James jerked him off through it, continuing even when Keith slumped against him in a boneless heap. His muscles twitched as the world slowly came back into focus.

This time, the overstimulation was painful. He tugged James’ hand away from his limp dick with a shudder. Mercifully, he also turned off the toy.

Keith couldn’t move. He listened the voices growing distant, their owners none the wiser of what was happening in the clearing just a few feet away. James held him against his chest, his cheek resting atop his hair. The embrace had no lustful heat to it. It was peaceful, gentle, loving.

“You okay?” James asked softly. “I’m sorry, was that too much?”

Keith grunted. “No.”

“You’re not okay? Did you hurt yourself—”

“ _No_ , it wasn’t too much. It was… it was nice.”

Keith was too wrung out for embarrassment. It had been nice anyway, what was the point of lying? He’d had three orgasms so James would know if he lied.

James chuckled softly. “Yeah, very nice.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Keith’s head. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re nice and strong and intelligent and funny. There really is no end to your perfection, isn’t there?”

Keith scoffed. “Funny? Nice? It’s the first time anyone’s said this about me.”

“Ah? You’ve been called beautiful before?”

Keith reached behind him blindly to tug at a lock of James’ hair. “Don’t be daft.” He sat up straighter, turning in James’ embrace so they would be face to face. “I’ve had my fun. It’s your turn now.” He pointedly looked down at James’ lap. “You’re still hard despite everything.”

“With the way you grinded that gorgeous ass against my crotch, I’m surprised I didn’t come inside my trousers.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t; it would have been awkward to explain.”

He undid the laces of James’ trousers easily. His movements were a bit sluggish and the world seemed fuzzy around the edges. He couldn’t remember feeling this good in a long while. He felt on the edge of drunkenness, that precious moment before it became too much.

He tugged James’ erection free. The poor guy was hard enough that it must be painful. He hissed as Keith’s fingers closed around his dick loosely. Keith offered him a small grin before leaning down on his elbows. He nuzzled the dick, peppering it with kisses. He loved the way James’ breath hitched, how his body tensed, how he kept himself from bucking into the hold. A lesser man wouldn’t have shown such restraint, wouldn’t have endured Keith’s teasing.

Keith ran his tongue the length of the dick, tasting its familiar taste. He squeezed the base tightly, not wanting James to come accidently. This pulled a groan from the man that nearly set afire Keith’s lust again. He parted his lips and took the tip in his mouth, letting it rest there for a moment, twirling his tongue around. Then, he took it deeper slowly, inch by careful inch. He’d gotten pretty good at it. He’d learned to suppress his gag reflex after practicing on the dildo, and he could tell James was surprised that he didn’t gag the way he used too. Still, he remained careful, breathing through his nose. He swallowed, which made James groan again. His hands were in his hair, not quite pulling but definitely pushing his head down. Keith found it hot for some reason. He allowed it, letting the tip of the dick into his throat.

“Do you want me to turn the toy on?” James asked, voice strained.

Keith closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head minutely. He couldn’t focus on the task at hand if his mind were overwhelmed with pleasure. Keeping a firm grip on James’ dick, he began bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks. James more or less guided his movements. He wasn’t rough about it, but Keith’s jaw began to ache nonetheless. He pulled back a little to breathe, once again peppering kisses all over the hard length. He could tell he was testing James’ restraints now. He tried not to grin as he took the dick into his mouth again, sealing his lips around it and sucking.

James’ hips bucked hard a few times before he spilled inside his throat. Keith swallowed hurriedly, eyes watering and supressing a cough. He kept sucking until there was nothing left and James’ limp dick slipped from between his lips. He kept his head down for a moment, panting, hot all over again.

He was only half-surprised when James pulled him into a kiss, tugging him close.

“Damn, you’re so perfect,” James murmured, kissing his chin then nipping along his jawline.

“Look who’s talking.”

James chuckled, hugging him. Keith relaxed against him. The sound of his heartbeat helped reality settle in again more firmly. James was warm and real. There was nowhere else Keith would rather be for that small moment of time. The clearing, the setting, the warmth, the company, it was all so perfect to seem unreal.

It was then that Keith realised his plan had backfired.

He hadn’t seduced James; James had seduced him.


	7. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith couldn’t stop the small smile from forming on his lips. “Patience yields focus.”
> 
> “Exactly. You need to be patient in order to focus. You need to go at this carefully. Roaming the countryside on a stolen horse after stabbing a clipper won’t help you find your family. It’ll only get you killed, or worse. What I’m trying to say, Keith, is that you shouldn’t be ashamed of your feelings for James. They don’t make you a traitor. They simply make you human. There’s no shame in you trying to be a little happy. I’m quite certain neither Krolia nor Acxa would begrudge you a measure of happiness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, guys! The last chapter of that monster! This chapter is more than 10,000 words long so I apologize for the length! I'm not quite certain I like the ending because I absolutely had no idea how to end it. I hope you'll find it somewhat satisfying. Thank you to everybody who has followed the story since the beginning! Although the first chapter was posted only a week ago, it feels much longer for some reason. You guys have been amazing and your kind comments have blown my mind. Thank you all!
> 
> It is possible that I'll write more of this universe in the future, though only in the form of drafts posted on my Twitter. Join me over there if you wish to read them!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

“How did you manage to survive so long when you suck so much at swordplay?”

Keith, on his back, winded, opened his eyes to glare malevolently at Nadia. She loomed over him, her blade at his throat, a shit-eating grin firmly placed on her face. This was becoming a familiar scenario, much to his chagrin.

Not one to revel in her victories, Nadia extended a hand to help him to his feet. Every one of his muscles protested. His right arm ached from wrist to shoulder. It felt as if he’d never held a sword before.

One week. It had been only one week and Keith felt like screaming. He’d known getting back to swordplay would be difficult, but he hadn’t imagined it would be this hard. He felt like a beginner; clumsy and ridiculous and predictable. The clippers sniggered openly to see him being thrown to the ground this easily. Hell, even the colts who had to be ten years his junior grinned at his uselessness.

He flexed his cramping fingers. The calluses had yet to be remade; his skin was rough and chafed in places.

“I didn’t suck before,” he grumbled.

Nadia laughed, patting his shoulder. “You’ll get there, don’t worry. You’re rusty, but I can tell you’re going to be good soon enough. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Keith snorted. “I have to be hard on myself. I feel like a damn idiot.” He threw a contemptuous look around himself at the clippers and colts pretending not to make fun of him.

“Don’t mind them. It’s like a rite of passage, you know.”

Perhaps it would be a rite of passage if he were a colt, but he wasn’t. He was still a slave. Though Shiro and James had managed to convince Baron Iverson to let him try swordplay, it didn’t change his status. He hadn’t been freed. He was allowed on the tiltyard only two hours every day. The rest of his time was filled with his ordinary work now that James no longer needed constant watching. Shiro had said that, maybe, after the harvest, he’d be afforded more time. Keith had to be grateful for what he had, he knew. It just sucked; two hours a day wouldn’t cut it. He’d never reach his old level of mastery if he couldn’t spend more time on the tiltyard.

Maybe this was why he couldn’t spend more time training; the baron didn’t want a good enemy swordsman amongst his ranks.

This was none of Nadia’s fault so he thanked her for her lessons. She seemed to truly enjoy spending time with him and giving him hell, and he was honestly thankful for it. Nobody else had been willing to help him train. James would have done it willingly if he’d been mended. As it stood, he was still stuck with light duties and Nadia had agreed to take his place to train Keith for the moment.

They put away the blunted training swords and went their separate ways. Keith was sweaty and covered in dirt after being thrown to the ground often. He ached everywhere in ways he had forgotten. This reminded him of his youth, when his mother had started teaching him swordplay. Krolia had been a merciless teacher. He’d often gone to bed exhausted and aching, only to have it all start again the next day. What would she think of his bad form now? If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her chiding him for resting his weight on his off foot, for not parrying fast enough, for taking too many chances.

“I didn’t know light duty implied you lounging about all day in bed,” Keith commented once he reached his bedroom to see James reading.

“There isn’t much a clipper can do that’s considered light.” He looked up from his book and grinned at Keith’s disheveled appearance. “Ah, Nadia was hard on you?”

Keith snorted. He sat at the foot of the bed with a grunt. “Enough. I just suck.”

“You don’t suck. You simply lack practice. Do you think I’m going to be good once I’m back on the field? It’ll take months before I’m up to full strength again.”

Keith didn’t want to be mollified. “I know…”

“Come here.”

Keith still didn’t want to be mollified, didn’t want to be coddled. He nonetheless leaned into James’ embrace, allowing himself to be hugged. He rested his head on James’ chest, grumbling just to show he wasn’t over it yet. James was beginning to know him because he said nothing, allowing his temper to simmer down on its own.

“How’s your back?” Keith asked.

“Better. Adam removed the last stitches. It’s healing nicely.”

“Good. At least he won’t accuse me of not caring for you properly.”

James laughed. “He never said anything of the sort, kitten. In fact, he kind of perhaps hinted that you did an okay job.”

Keith rolled his eyes and said sarcastically: “Wow, high praise coming from him.”

“Don’t worry, _I_ happen to think you did an amazing job.”

Of course he had. Keith wouldn’t have let James die even if it was the last thing he did in this life.

“I should get back,” Keith said after a long moment. “I’ll be expected in the fields.”

“Never mind that. Stay.”

And Keith stayed. James went back to his book and Keith just basked in the silence and warmth and comfort provided by the guy he’d planned to either dupe or kill.

His conscience pricked at him because of this nowadays. He still hated being a slave, he still wished to look for his missing family, but he no longer wanted to get rid of James. He no longer wanted to run away in the night knowing it would get James into trouble. To be honest, he was at a loss, far more than he’d been when he’d first arrived. His resolve hadn’t weakened, he simply didn’t know what to do anymore. It had seemed simple before, back when feelings weren’t involved. He hated himself for falling for James, hated that it made leaving nearly impossible. Why did James have to be so damn _nice_? 

-

Two more months passed. Summer waned to leave room for the rainy season. The heat lessened its grip. In the shadowy groves of the forest, the leaves began to turn golden.

James got better. Adam gave him his reluctant nod to start training again if he promised not to overexert himself. Nadia nearly had as much fun throwing him into the dirt as she had at throwing Keith. Keith watched. He found himself wincing in sympathy, found himself telling her to be gentler, found himself blushing at her knowing smirks. Feelings were confusing things that made him angry. He snapped at James sometimes, unsettled by his kindness and especially unsettled by his own response to it. James took it all with equanimity. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the verbal spars with Keith, enjoyed having someone to argue with.

Keith wished his mother or Acxa were here to advise him. He was lost and confused. It felt as if he had no purpose whatsoever anymore. It left him adrift.

Since he had no family member to turn to, he decided that Shiro was the next best thing. He hesitated however. It seemed foolish to seek him out to ask him what to do about the whole situation. He wasn’t sure that even Shiro, with his infinite kindness, would welcome being told that Keith didn’t know whether he still wished to backstab James or not.

He decided to wait a little longer just in case he had a brilliant idea that would solve everything. He waited until he realised his snappish, uncertain behaviour affected James. Although he did try to hide it, Keith saw the hurt in his eyes when he turned away from an embrace. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t want to stab James to run away, yet he was willing to hurt him in a different way?

“Just tell him how you feel,” Shiro advised after Keith had finally decided to confide in him.

They sat on the fence that encompassed the tiltyard, looking at the new colts being led through their first lesson. The recruits seemed incredibly young to Keith’s eye, as if he hadn’t started training with the blade at twelve too.

“It’s not that easy,” Keith grumbled, keeping his turned face away.

He’d been able to tell Shiro everything by keeping his eyes averted. He hadn’t wanted to read pity in the other man’s demeanour.

Shiro patted his shoulder. “No, but it doesn’t have to be as complicated as you make it out to be. I understand your plan, Keith. I think anybody in your position would have immediately formulated a plan to escape after being captured. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It also doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting a little stability. Your life has been spent going from battle to battle. It’s normal to want some peace with the man you love.”

“But my mother, Acxa—”

“Keith, going after them blindly won’t help. You have to be smart about it. You might be a slave right now, but you enjoy more liberties than many cogs. Talk to James about them. He is a good man, he will help you.”

“I don’t know… it feels like a betrayal, sitting here while they could be suffering.”

Shiro shrugged. “With what I know of Krolia and Acxa, I’d say there’s a high probability that they’re somewhere safe planning a rescue for you. Do you remember what I told you when we went hunting that time?”

Keith couldn’t stop the small smile from forming on his lips. “Patience yields focus.”

“Exactly. You need to be patient in order to focus. You need to go at this carefully. Roaming the countryside on a stolen horse after stabbing a clipper won’t help you find your family. It’ll only get you killed, or worse. What I’m trying to say, Keith, is that you shouldn’t be ashamed of your feelings for James. They don’t make you a traitor. They simply make you human. There’s no shame in you trying to be a little happy. I’m quite certain neither Krolia nor Acxa would begrudge you a measure of happiness.”

Shiro made it sound so damn simple. Keith wanted to believe him, yearned to believe his words. He simply couldn’t stop thinking that Acxa and his mother were being maltreated, that they needed help. He knew they were both strong, capable women. He knew they could hold their own against anything. He just wished he knew for certain that they were all right.

Shiro bumped their shoulders together. “Come on Keith, give me a smile.”

Keith pouted. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to smile about.”

“There’s everything to smile about; the kid I consider a little brother’s in love for the first time. It’s a great thing!”

Keith’s face burned. “Ugh, Shiro! Don’t be embarrassing!”

Shiro laughed, patting his back. “Isn’t that the prerogative of an older sibling to make fun of the younger one? Don’t tell me Acxa never made fun of you.”

“Acxa’s sense of humour was… lacking sometimes.”

“You’ll have to get used to mine, then.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “By the way, you should follow your own advice.” At Shiro’s puzzled expression, he said: “Tell Adam how you feel.”

Watching Shiro blush was satisfying. He cleared his throat. “This is not the same thing. We are no longer together.”

“Because you were an idiot, apparently. Look, I don’t know the whole story, but it’s clear you still pine after each other like morons. Just tell him that you still love him. He’ll take you back, I’m sure. He wouldn’t shut up about you all the time I was over there.”

Shiro was in his early thirties, but seeing him blush and looking uncertain made him appear so damn young. “You think so?”

“Of course I do!”

Mercifully, this turned the conversation away from him. Sadly, it hadn’t resolved much. It only left him with more questions, more uncertainties. Keith supposed that Shiro was right when he said that running away to search for his missing family was stupid; he’d never find either his mother or Acxa if he were being hunted. Once again, his best chance rested on James. There was trust between them now; the days of being locked away in the room were long past. James trusted Keith would come back every night, which he unfailingly did. Maybe, just maybe, James would allow him to leave the compound once in a while to make inquiries, to ask around, to try figuring out what had happened to his mother and his sister. He had to know Keith would come back.

Keith had one more weapon in his arsenal: three words he knew would bind James to him forever. If he spoke them aloud, he’d bet his right hand that James would trust him implicitly, trust that he’d come back. Keith didn’t want those words to be a chain between them, however. He didn’t want to say them in the hope of gaining something in exchange.

He said nothing, keeping this to himself, thinking until boiled over and he snapped at James.

Afterward, he’d be hard-pressed to recall what had led to the argument. They’d been bantering as they usually did, posturing a little on the tiltyard. James was back to full health if not to full strength and they’d decided to spar together for fun. There had been a little bit of taunting too, knowing grins exchanged, challenges issued. It had been fun and innocent.

And then James mentioned family and Keith had snapped.

“The fuck you’d know about family?!” he yelled, stunning everybody around. “At least the only family you have hasn’t been taken into slavery! At least you know what happened to them!”

James had been too taken aback to think of a retort. Keith, disgusted with the situation nearly as much as he was disgusted with himself, threw down the blunted practice sword before marching away.

The pressure in his chest was echoed behind his eyes. The world blurred around the edges. He had no idea where he was walking off to. He had to get away for a moment, compose himself, make sure nobody saw the water threatening to run down his cheeks.

He found a quiet spot behind the barracks between old planks of wood. He sat down heavily, legs pulled against his chest, arms wrapped around his knees. For the moment he concentrated on getting his breathing under control, leaving his mind blank. Finally, his heartbeat slowed down. His breathing returned to normal. The adrenaline rush diminished, leaving him shaky. He hung his head, emptied.

What the hell had this been? He’d never snapped that way before. It had been stupid and cruel; James didn’t deserve it. Despite knowing this, Keith couldn’t find it in himself to get up to apologize. He felt too hollowed out to care right now. He rubbed his face tiredly, wondering if he’d somehow ruined everything with a few careless words.

“Want to talk about it?”

Keith looked up, not really surprised to see James standing there. There was an openness to James’ face that made him even guiltier for having snapped at him.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Can I sit with you?”

Keith nodded and James settled beside him. The space was a tad too narrow for two grown men, which meant their shoulders were pressed together. It should be uncomfortable, this invasion of his bubble, yet Keith welcomed the other man’s presence. It felt good not being alone.

“I have a sister,” Keith began, keeping his voice low. “Acxa. She was taken too, but I didn’t see by whom. And my mother. I don’t know what happened to her.”

James nodded once. “I see. And you’re worried about them.”

Keith scoffed. “Of course.”

“Keith, you should have told me.”

“Why? You might not be a slave, but there isn’t much you can do yourself. Clippers can’t just go about wherever they like either.”

James sighed. “Keith, Baron Iverson is not a tyrant. What do you think clippers do on their days off? We do whatever we like.”

“Perhaps, but so what? Don’t tell me you’d have used your days off to look for my family.”

“Why wouldn’t I tell you that if it’s the truth?”

Keith’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t help it; he turned to look at James with huge eyes, totally taken aback. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” James said quietly. “Keith, I’d do anything to make you happy. I suppose it’s my fault for never asking about your family. I didn’t even wonder where they might be. It was thoughtless of me.”

Again that pressure built up behind Keith’s eyes. He felt wretched, horrible for having shouted at James. He looked down at his hands, embarrassed.

“It’s not. I suppose a part of me was happy you never asked. That way, I didn’t have to talk about them and didn’t have to wonder about them.”

James took his hand, linking their fingers. “It’s all right. Look, let’s not get our hopes up yet, but I have a few ideas where to look. I know for certain that nobody from Daibazaal took any slave. I’m on friendly terms with fellow clippers from the Altea Barony. I think they did take some slaves. We can go from there.”

“Are you sure this isn’t going to land you into trouble?”

“It won’t. Atlas and Altea have always been good neighbours. Asking around won’t hurt. The folk from Altea are decent.”

“Why are you doing this, James? I’m just a slave. Finding my family won’t benefit you in any way.”

James sighed. He turned to look away, eyes growing distant. His fingers tightened minutely on Keith’s. There was a hint of colour on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the nip in the wind.

“Because I love you.”

And there it was.

Keith’s whole body warmed. He remained very still, letting the words ring in his head. _I love you_. He’d known it, had sensed it on a deep level, yet hearing it spoken out loud made the butterflies in his stomach dance. He opened his mouth, closed it. He had no idea what to say. His own need to confess burned at the back of his throat. It would be oh so easy to just say it, let the confession fall between them like a warm blanket. James deserved to hear it, deserved to know his feelings weren’t unrequited. Keith owed it to him a hundred times over.

What he said instead was: “Kiss me, idiot.”

James did eagerly.

-

“I have the next three days off,” James told him a few weeks later.

Keith looked up from his bucket of water. Planting and harvesting season done, he was back to scrubbing inside the manor house. Today he didn’t mind much; the wind howled outside. Cold rain lashed at the windowpanes relentlessly. The clouds were thick enough to hide any trace of the sun.

He sat back on his haunches, noting with amusement that James stood on the threshold, keeping his muddy boots away from the clean floor. “Indeed.”

“Want to spend them with me?”

Faint hope rang in James’ voice. Keith found himself blushing slightly. He knew what this meant. “I’d like that.”

He watched as James’ face changed minutely. If Keith hadn’t spent the past months with him, he wouldn’t have noticed the twitch of his lips that indicated relief.

“Good. Pack us a bag. We leave in the morning for town.” He made to take a step towards Keith. Looking down, he pulled a face. “Ah, let’s not get a repeat of the thrown bucket.”

Keith had to laugh. “Why not? Seeing you scrubbing my floor was worth it.”

“I don’t have to scrub floors to get on my knees in front of you. Just ask and I’ll do it.”

Spluttering, Keith flicked some water in James’ direction. “G-go away and let me work, now! You’ll be doing enough kneeling in the next three days to make your knees bleed!”

James grinned. “Looking forward to it, kitten.”

Twice the slave master yelled at him that he hadn’t done his job right, but Keith barely heard the words. His mind was elsewhere, thrumming with excitement at what was to come. He was embarrassed at how eager he was to simply spend three days alone with James. Privacy wasn’t something that was easily found in the barracks. More often than not, they’d slip away into the woods to kiss or fondle each other. When they were lucky, Ryan, Nadia, and Ina would get guard duty all at the same time. Otherwise, every moment they got together was stolen.

And Keith found he was growing tired of it. He wanted to be able to just sit down and relax with James without being hurried. Oh, he also wanted to have mind-blowing sex with him, but it was everything else that would come with being alone that interested him more. He wanted to see how James behaved away from the compound when he didn’t have to be a clipper. He wanted to hear him talk about his life, about his friends, about his family, about his passions. He wanted to simply lie down beside him under warm blankets to listen to the rain drum on the roof. He wanted lazy morning kisses and smiles exchanged over the breakfast table.

He wanted what his mother had recounted about her life with his father.

He was twenty-two. He’d never been in love and it was scary, the good kind of scary, the same kind of scary that came with standing at the edge of a waterfall before building up the courage to jump knowing it was perfectly safe. Keith had never needed a nudge to take that plunge before. He wouldn’t need it this time either.

He decided to use those three days to confess.

They left not long after noon the next day. Like an omen, the rain had relented. The cloud cover had parted to allow shafts of sunrays to illuminate the wet autumn landscape. The air smelled of drenched grass and cleanliness. The muddied roads had dried just enough to make riding a pleasure. There was little wind and the coolness of the past week had abated.

Keith turned his face up into the breeze. It tugged at his hair, caressing his skin like a mother’s touch. It felt good. He felt good without being exactly sure why. He simply basked in the feeling, refusing to think of anything that could sour his mood. Three days. He gave himself three days to be selfish. Afterward, he’d once again start pestering James to look for Acxa and his mother.

The town buzzed with the liveliness that came with prosperity. The Atlas barony was one of the richest and it showed in the way its people did business. Last time Keith had visited, he’d been too concerned with keeping James alive to look around. Now that they were walking the horses leisurely, he could take it all in. The marketplace thrummed with activity. Men and women haggled over price, hawking their wares while dogs and cats hurried about. Food vendors did good business with delicious-smelling meals. The alehouses had opened their doors wide to the thirsty shoppers. From the balconies and windows of upper floors, whores flirted with the passersby below, blowing kisses and smiling winsomely. Penned in animals awaited either slaughter or a buyer, noisily making their discontent known.

“Wait here a second,” James said.

He dismounted and threw the reins of his horse to a puzzled Keith. Deftly, James inserted himself into the throng of people, making his way towards a street vendor. Keith watched him go, wondering what he was doing. When he came back, he had something wrapped in his hands that he extended to Keith.

“Here, eat that.”

“What is it?”

He took the greasy piece of a paper, uncertain what he was looking at. This appeared to be a sort of meat pie, though it smelled nothing like any meat pie he’d ever seen before.

“I’m not sure,” James confessed, climbing back into the saddle. “The meat inside is supposed to be something called squid. Whatever it is, it’s tasty. Come on!”

Keith frowned, sighed, and took a bite. A rubbery texture filled his mouth. He gagged on it for a moment, grimacing. He chewed out of reflex until his tongue somehow got accustomed to the taste. Once it had, he realised it did taste good. Like, really good.

He ate the whole thing in three mouthfuls, ignoring James’ amused grin.

“It’s very lively,” Keith commented after a while.

They weren’t in a hurry so James had offered to show him around. They’d dismounted, leading their horses slowly along the busy streets. Overhead, thunder rumbled a good distance away—it would rain soon.

“Yes it is. We’ve been having an influx of refugees lately. I don’t know what’s happening outside our lands, but it seems to be pretty bad. Baroness Allura from Altea told Baron Iverson that her barony too has been flooded with refugees.” He nodded towards a tall, ancient-looking tenement. “That’s where I grew up.”

There had been no such things as towns, cities, or tenement buildings on the Marmora barony. It had mostly been a collections of villages, its inhabitants content with hunting and living off the land. Keith looked at the tall building, wondering how it would feel to grow up within four concrete walls. He found that, for some reason, the place fitted James. It looked solid, timeless, and, let’s be honest, a tiny bit stiff just like him.

“My father owned a shop and my mother was a retired clipper,” James continued, fondness lacing his voice. “They both died when his shop burned down five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

James shrugged. “We weren’t that close, not like you and your mother. My parents didn’t want me to be a clipper, they wanted me to inherit the shop. I just couldn’t. The idea of spending my life working indoors was too much.”

“I can understand that.”

They continued on their way, James pointing out landmarks or places that brought back good memories. The prosperity, the well-fed look of the people made Keith happy. It was nice seeing a place that hadn’t been touched by the war. Back home, every village had lost so many people to the rebellion that they had become shells of themselves. Anywhere he’d gone, he’d seen sadness and desperation. Children were starving. Adults were desperate. He wondered where all those people had gone. Had they been taken into slavery too? Had they been taken in? Had they been slaughtered? Customs dictated that the winning barony take charge of the cogs of the losing barony, and Keith hoped this was what had happened.

He pushed that thought out of his mind. Later, he’d ponder that later.

By the end of the afternoon, they’d seen everything that could be seen. They retraced their steps until they reached the small inn where they’d be spending the next three days. A squat, low-roofed construction, it sported a few balconies, tall windows, and a charming view of the busy road. Taking in the noisy carts and noisier passersby hurrying home before the rain started, Keith sensed there would be little rest to be had.

The room was situated on the top floor. It wasn’t large, but it sported a nice bed, a table and chairs, and a small brazier for warmth. There was also a shelf of old books that had seen better days and a few abstracts portraits of what the world had supposedly looked like before the apocalypse.

At least it was private. They wouldn’t have to share it with anyone else.

Keith had barely deposited his bag on the floor that James was on him, mouth hungrily seeking his. His response to the demanding kisses shocked him; he answered in kind, grinning while teeth sunk into his bottom lip. James pushed him towards the bed, hands roaming over his body shamelessly. Keith sat down heavily on the mattress while James sank on the floor between his spread knees. He had no time for a quip; James undid his trousers and pulled them down awkwardly, tugging his half-hard dick out of his underwear.

Wet warmth engulfed him, making him gasp. It didn’t take him long to be fully hard. James was damn good at using his mouth and he’d quickly learned what pleased Keith the most. There would be no teasing right now; he went down to business right away, sucking hard, tongue swirling in a way that made Keith see stars. His hands went to James’ hair, fingers twigging in the brown locks. He was hard put to keep his hips still. James didn’t mind his bucking and soon, Keith was too far gone to be careful about it. His fingers tightened. He panted hard, little whimpers escaping his mouth once in a while. James swallowed around his dick, applying just enough pressure. Keith gasped, his hips thrusting into that warm mouth. Despite the heat threatening to blow his mind, he realised that James was smiling, probably glad to have taken him by surprise.

“James, I’m gonna—”

James grabbed his hips, stopping him from trying to pull back. Keith’s belly tightened, climax threatening. Toes curling in his boots, he tried pushing it back, tried to last longuer just so he could feel that amazing tongue licking at his tip. James gave another hard suck and that was it. His self-control snapped and his climax hit him like a hammer blow. He shouted as he came, spine bowing painfully, muscles spasming uncontrollably. The world went white for a long moment before slowly coming back into focus.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he released his hold on James’ hair. Brown strands stood every which way, giving him a disheveled, roguish look that totally fitted the lust darkening his eyes. While Keith watched, he made a show of swallowing, his throat bobbing. The grin on his face made Keith want to punch and kiss him in equal measures.

“What was that for?” Keith asked, breathless.

James chuckled. “For fun? I’ve been wanting to do it since we left the barracks.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“We’d still be on the road if I’d stopped you every time I wanted to suck you off.”

Keith blushed, the words more embarrassing than the act itself. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to your frankness.”

“You’ll have to. You need to tell me what you want.” James gazed at him from his spot on the floor, his brown eyes clear, open, inviting.

The problem was that Keith didn’t know what he wanted, either sexually or, well, he didn’t know what he wanted at all. He had no idea how to put it into words either. He’d never been a smooth talker. Nobody in his family was; most of the time, they understood each other with a look.

He could save himself embarrassment by saying he wanted what James wanted, which in itself wouldn’t be a lie. James wouldn’t thank him for it however. He’d insist because hearing Keith say out loud, unbidden, what he wanted was a sure sign that it was consensual.

The knock at the door saved him from answering. Blushing to the tips of his ears, he quickly pulled his trousers up. James patted his thigh and went to answer the summon. The smells of food wafted in the second he opened the door, making Keith’s stomach grumble. A young woman and a young man walked in with two trays that they deposited on the table. A few candles were lit. The curtains were drawn. The light was turned off.

Suddenly, the room was plunged in hazy darkness filled with the odours of food and tallow candles.

It was… romantic.

“So, are you going to sit there or are you going to eat?” James asked, already sitting himself down at the table.

It was romantic.

Keith got up slowly, body languid after a good orgasm. He felt a little numb, just enough that the thought of a romantic dinner with James didn’t scare him. He crossed the room to sit on the free chair, eyes taking in the victuals arrayed on his tray. This looked kind of fancy, not the kind of slop slaves ate. Whatever this was on his plate smelled delicious. There was also warm bread in a small basket and, surprisingly, a good helping of butter. One mug was filled to overflowing with brown ale while the other was filled with cool water.

 “You really thought of everything,” Keith mumbled, slowly picking up his fork.

From across the table, James smiled at him. The small flames of the candles threw light shadows across his face, making him look even more handsome than usual. His eyes gleamed happily. “I certainly hope so. I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

“Isn’t it a bit much?”

“I don’t know if it’s much. I just know that it’s good to be away from the barracks and from everybody else.”

Keith had to agree with that. He took his first bite of his dinner. Whatever meat this was nearly melted on his tongue. Spicy flavours burst into his mouth. His eyes widened at the extraordinary foreign tastes. It no longer mattered if this was too much; he dug in with gusto, barely hearing James’ amused laughter. He took a bite of everything, sampling every dish with eagerness. If this was how the common people of the Atlas barony ate every day, he might consider changing his allegiance. What a change from barrack slop and the roasted meat of his childhood this was.

Even the ale tasted good, sliding down his throat easily.

He saw that James was gazing at him with amusement. Keith pulled a face—it was amazing that he knew from James’ soft eyes that he wasn’t mocking him. For some reason, this meal was made all the greater because they were sharing it together.

Oh, he was turning into such a sap.

There was even desert with the main course. The sugary taste of the cake made him moan out loud. Sugar was such a rarity in these parts that he’d had it only a handful of times in his life. Every time, having it melting on his tongue felt like a little burst of joy. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cloying sweetness.

“You’re probably the first person I find attractive while they’re eating,” James commented wryly.

Keith popped another morsel of his cake in his mouth, dragging the fork out slowly after making a show of licking it clean. “Hm? And you find many people attractive?”

James scoffed, taking a sip of his ale. “Are you going to be jealous?”

“No, I’m simply curious.”

“Well then, yes, I’ve met attractive people. I’ve been with a few of them. I’m surprised you haven’t.”

Keith shrugged. He finished the last piece of cake with a regretful sigh. “There was never time to get close to anyone.” He added with a chuckle: “And my sister and mother were very overprotective. They didn’t even want me to spend time with Shiro when we first met.”

“Oh, the regent, eh?”

“It was a puppy crush, okay?!”

James laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not making fun of you! Half the barony’s in love with him while the other half wishes to be him.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Ah? Which half do you fall under?”

“A bit of both, I suppose? I heard a few people even threw a party when he broke up with his boyfriend.”

Keith leaned back on his chair, extending his legs under the table with a contented sigh. “I’m not surprised.” His foot bumped James’ foot and he poked him with a grin. “Were you amongst those people?”

James quirked an eyebrow. “Knowing me, do you think I’d do something this vulgar?”

“Hm,” Keith pretended to think while slowly toeing off his boot. “I suppose you would not.” He smiled at James. “Though I suppose I couldn’t blame you. Adam’s great, but he did come between me and the guy whom I thought was the love of my life.” Once the boot was removed, he slowly slid his foot up James’ leg, trying to keep his face a blank mask. “Now I’m glad they’re back together.”

One of James’ eyebrows twitched, the only outward expression that something was happening. “It’s great news for them. I know the regent never stopped pining for him. I’m afraid you never had any chance with him.”

Keith pouted. “This is breaking my twelve-year-old heart, James.” He slid his foot further up until he reached the knee. He pressed on between James’ opened thighs, feeling the muscles bunch. “Who am I going to marry if Shiro’s back with Adam?”

James exhaled softly when Keith’s toes pressed into his crotch. “I might have a few suggestions.” He slumped a little in his chair, spreading his legs. “Nadia seems to like you very much for one.”

Keith laughed. He applied a little more pressure, circling his foot on James’ growing erection. “Nadia? Really?”

“Yes.” James’ smile looked a tad strained. “She thinks you’re the prettiest guy she’s ever met. I told her to back off or we might have to fight it off.”

“When I first arrived at the barracks, I thought I’d have to… service the four of you.” Keith continued moving his foot in slow circles, trying not to smile when he felt James’ dick twitch. It was nearly fully hard by then. “That was a daunting prospect.”

This startled a laugh out of James. “Really? I—” He hissed, shuffling a bit on his chair. His hand went under the table, warm fingers wrapping loosely around Keith’s ankle. “I had no intention of sharing you, I promise.”

James’ fingers on his naked skin sent a jolt of heat down Keith’s belly. He nonetheless kept moving his foot, fascinated by the changes in James’ expression. He was doing his best to appear unaffected, probably not realising how his eyes had darkened and how his cheeks had reddened. He looked otherworldly in the gentle glow of the candlelight.

“That’s reassuring,” Keith admitted, slightly breathless. He couldn’t help smiling when James pressed against his foot. “I might not have taken lightly to being passed around.”

“I’m afraid this means you’re stuck with me.”

“It could be worse, though your friend Ryan is quite handsome—”

“ _Keith_ ,” James snapped in warning.

The note of possessiveness in James’ voice surprised Keith. It sent an unexpected shiver down his back. He wasn’t sure he liked it because it meant he was desired or because it meant he was safe. It was suddenly more difficult to breathe.

They stared at each other from across the table full of empty dishes. Electricity seemed to crackle in the warming air of the room.

Keith began to move his foot again, tilting his chin up in challenge. There would be no more bantering now. James’ hand left his ankle to undo the laces of his trousers. Never breaking eye contact, he seized Keith’s foot and pressed it on his naked erection. Keith’s breathing hitched. It was weird and oddly hot to feel that burning, wet skin against his sole. Or maybe what was hot was the unfaltering eye contact. Keith’s own dick hardened in his pants even though he’d come not two hours ago.

James more or less jerked himself off until he spilled his seed all over Keith’s foot. His face when he came was enough to make Keith’s heart speed up.

“That’s gross,” he lied.

“Yeah, I hope you wash your feet often.”

Keith, surprised by this come back, burst into laughter. “You know I do! You can clean up your mess now.”

Grinning, James took a napkin from the table and carefully, methodically, cleaned Keith’s foot. The feel of fabric on his skin made him shiver slightly.

“Can we go to bed now?” he asked, not caring that he sounded needy.

“Oh? Are you tired already?”

“James!”

“You know I cannot refuse you anything.” James got up, holding out his hand to him. “Come on. Let me take care of you now.”

Gently, James tugged him to his feet and pulled him closer. He wrapped his arm around Keith’s waist, holding him close. They stared at each other for a moment, their breaths mingling. Keith wondered if James could feel how madly his heart was beating right now, and if he realised that his heart was hammering away too.

“Can I kiss you?” James asked, his lips a hairsbreadth away.

“Yes.”

Their lips met softly with no hurry. It started with a mere chaste press, nothing more than a peck. Keith opened his mouth a little, invitingly, allowing James’ tongue in. Hands roamed each other’s body, following now-familiar curves, lingering over now-familiar spots. James’ lips left his mouth to trail over his jaw, pressing small kisses up to his ear then down his throat. He nuzzled his neck, breath tingling. Keith ran a hand through his hair, urging him on. He loved when James left bite marks, loved seeing them in the mirror the morning after.

He pulled at James’ shirt, forcing him to pull back so he could take it off. The fabric caught in his hair, mussing it, making Keith grin at the unusual dishevelled look. He knelt on the floor, pulling James’ trousers and underwear down in one smooth motion. He wasn’t hard for the moment, though this could change quickly. James didn’t protest when Keith pushed him back until he sat down on the bed. Keith straddled him eagerly, leaning down to capture his lips in another kiss. There was more heat behind it this time. James’ hands eagerly went to his butt, squeezing with an appreciate hum.

“You’re beautiful,” James murmured when Keith leaned back to take a breath. “How did I get so lucky?”

Keith rolled his eyes with exaggeration. He seized James’ face, looking into his eyes. “I could ask the same thing. Of all the people who could take me as their slave, I ended up with the nicest one.”

“I swear I’d have challenged anyone who’d dare take you from me.”

Keith scoffed, touched and embarrassed by it. “I hope you know I don’t require such grand gestures.”

“Let’s wait until I’m back to full strength before I have to fight for you, okay?”

Worry suffused Keith. “James, are you in pain? Is your back painful?”

He trailed his fingers down James’ back, feeling the puckered skin that had healed unevenly. The jagged scar was pretty impressive, running from shoulder nearly to hipbone in an uneven line. Although James had never complained out loud, it had pained him for a long time. It had restricted his movements, making it difficult for him to fully return to his swordplay.

“It’s perfectly fine,” James assured. “I promise. I’m simply not back at full strength, you know it.” He grinned. “Be gentle with me?”

Keith pushed him until he lied on his back, leaning over him with a stern expression. “I’ll be as gentle as I am on the tiltyard.”

James winced with exaggeration. “Ow. I foresee quite a lot of pain in the near future.”

“Now you’re being a wimp.” He sat back, his butt snug with James’ hips. “You never complain when I throw you to the mud.”

“Maybe I like being thrown around by the prettiest boy?”

“That’s your lamest pick up line so far. You’ll have to do better to get me out of my clothes.”

James chuckled, hands resting comfortably on Keith’s hips. “With you sitting on my lap like that, it’s getting hard to think.”

Keith wiggled a little. “Yeah, I can feel that.”

James’ growing erection was pressing against the seam of his pants exactly where Keith wanted it. To be honest, he too was starting to have difficulties thinking straight. He’d come earlier so the sense of urgency wasn’t that great, but he was nonetheless looking forward to what would be next.

“Do you want to ride me?” James asked.

Keith swallowed with difficulty. He was getting hot under the collar. He cleared his throat. “Uh, I don’t know? I mean, it’s just… I’m not sure—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” James said. He took Keith’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “We can do that later when you feel more confident.”

Was that it? Was he lacking confidence? No, if there was one thing Keith had in abundance it was confidence. And he did want to ride James, damn it! It was simply too overwhelming at the moment. Later.

“Want me to take the lead?” James asked softly.

Keith nodded, suddenly feeling shy like they’d never done anything before. He allowed James to shift their position until he was lying on his back. He parted his thighs to make room for James, pulling him down for a kiss. James went with it eagerly, biting his lips and pressing their hips together. They were both hard and Keith whimpered when their erections rubbed together. The wave of lust engulfing him helped pushing back the shyness. He wrapped his arms around James’ neck, reassured by the feel of the familiar body.

James kissed him again while he pulled his trousers down. The awkward fumbling that came after made them laugh stupidly, dispelling the last of Keith’s discomfort. He took off his shirt then lied back down, basking in the admiring way James took in every inch of his exposed body. He was hot and every nerve in his body thrummed with excitement. The mere touch of James’ fingertips on his collarbone punched the breath out of his lungs. He arched his back a little, relishing seeing James lose his composure.

Possibly taking this as an invitation, James bent his head to litter kisses all over Keith’s chest. He ran his tongue over Keith’s nipples, making him moan and writhe under the touch. All the while his hand trailed lower until it reached between his legs, bypassing his dick entirely. Keith unthinkingly spread his legs wider, raising his hips. James’ fingers brushed over his hole, making him twitch. He was panting hard by then, head swimming, too far gone to care about the embarrassing noises leaving his mouth.

James kissed the tip of his nose before getting up to rummage in his bag hurriedly. Keith whined at the loss of his body heat. He realised his fingers were knotted tight into the bedsheets beneath him. He forced himself to calm down, to unclench his muscles. He knew he needed to be relaxed for this or there’d be unnecessary pain.

“Do you want me to prepare you or do you want to do it yourself?” James asked, offering him the jar of lube.

Keith shook his head. “Do it.”

“Okay. Get on your hands and knees, kitten, it’ll be easier.”

Keith obeyed, pushing his ass up eagerly. Suddenly, he felt so foolish for being embarrassed. What was there to be embarrassed about? It wasn’t as if James had never seen naked before. Although they hadn’t had sex yet, it had been a close thing. This was simply another step.

He hissed when he felt the cold lube. James kept one hand on the small of his back, warm and reassuring and grounding. His thumb circled Keith’s hole a few times before gently slipping in. Keith whimpered a little, lowering his head so that his hair would hide his burning face. He had trouble keeping his breathing under control, and it didn’t help that James seemed to be having trouble too. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder at the other, not quite yet. He focused on keeping his muscles loose.

James inserted a finger without much resistance. He moved it about a few times before inserting a second. He went slowly, testing Keith’s reactions, stopping every time his breath hitched or his muscles tensed. Keith bit his lip not to moan when the fingers spread inside him. Although James already knew he liked this, his pride stung a little that he was getting this worked up this quickly. Already his dick was leaking, begging to be touched. He ignored it.

The stretch of the third finger burned a little. Keith shifted, widening his stance and arching his back. This time, he did glance at James when he heard him inhale sharply. James was intent on his work, dark eyes focused, face reddened. His body was wound up tight. Keith found it fascinating how he struggled to keep his composure. He was going at it slowly, ever careful. Every few seconds he asked if this were all right, and every time Keith answered that yes, it was all right.

His fingers were just long enough for the tip to graze Keith’s prostate. The first time it happened, he gasped, hips jerking. The burning in his belly increased a notch, forcing him to take deep breaths so he wouldn’t come right away. He could almost feel James’ smugness oozing when he prodded at his prostate again. Keith muffled his moans into his arm. His fingers clawed at the bedspread and his toes curled, heat spreading rapidly to every fibre of his body.

“Relax for me, kitten,” James whispered. “You’re squeezing my fingers like a vice.”

Keith could hardly help it. He breathed deeply, trying to think of something else. The fingers spread inside him with more ease after a while and James hummed in approval.

“Think you’re ready?” James asked, pulling his fingers out carefully.

Keith nodded quickly. He looked at James over his shoulder. “Y-yes. Yes yes yes do it please.”

“All right. You promise you’ll tell me if this gets too much?”

At any other time, James’ consideration would have reassured him. Now, it only seemed like one more obstacle to get over to reach his goal. “Yes!”

He watched while James scooped up more lube from the jar and applied it to his dick. He hissed at the contact, apparently getting close to the edge too. Keith licked his lips, too eager to be embarrassed anymore.

James rested a hand on his hip, grabbing hold of his dick to line it up. Keith forced himself not to tense when he felt the tip nudging at his hole. He breathed slowly, tightening his grip on the sheets. The size was similar to that of the toys he’d used before, yet the feeling was utterly different. He moaned as the tip went in. There was little pain, nothing more than a tiny sting. He bit down on his hand, muffling himself for the sake of listening to the sounds James made. His quick breathing was a sharp contrast to the restraint he was showing.

Inch by inch, Keith took the whole length. The feeling of being so full was amazing. It had been good with toys, and now it was even better because this was James. James was fully inside him, waiting for him to get adjusted, trembling slightly from the strain of holding back. Keith loved him for it. He knew James would have been careful even if he’d shouted at him to hurry up.

“Still okay?” James asked, voice tight.

Keith nodded. “Yes.” He readjusted his position a little. “Shit, it already feels so good. M-move now, come on.”

The first few thrusts were slow, experimental. It felt good but it wasn’t enough. Keith grunted in annoyance. What was James waiting for? Hadn’t he just said that he was all right? What—

Stars burst behind his eyes. Keith gasped, body tensing and hands scrambling for purchase. Behind him James shifted his hold on his hips and thrusted again. Keith moaned embarrassingly loud as his prostate was hit head on, sending a coruscating rainbow of pleasure crashing through his body. He couldn’t stifle his moans and whimpers. Sweat broke out on his body as the grip on his hips tightened. He lowered his head, burying his burning face in his arms. His hips moved of their own accord, meeting back the thrusts clumsily.

It didn’t take long for the pressure building inside his belly to burn brighter. Moaning, Keith reached between his legs to grab his painfully hard dick. A couple flicks of his wrist were enough to send him over with blinding speed. His orgasm hit him hard enough to steal his breath. He came without a sound, body tensing. The world tilted in the most amazing manner.

He still remained aware enough to feel when James reached his climax. His thrusts became erratic, uneven, his breathing louder. Then, he was spilling himself inside Keith with one last hard thrust.

Keith didn’t move for the longest time. Eyes closed, he did his best to catch his breath. The warmth filling him was oddly pleasing, the physical proof that James had been satisfied.

When James pulled back, a little of his seed mixed with the lube ran down Keith’s thighs, making him shiver. He suddenly felt empty, cold. As if sensing this, James tugged him close in an embrace, kissing his temple and his hair.

“You did great, kitten. How do you feel?”

Keith gave the question some consideration. “Great?”

James chuckled. “You don’t sound certain.”

“I am! I just…”

“Oh? Did I blow your mind?”

Keith groaned, blushing. “Okay, you kind of did! No need to be a smug bastard about it!”

“I’m simply happy you had fun, kitten. We should sleep a little now, you look tired.”

“Can we go for another round afterwards?”

“We’ll see about that, Keith.”

-

Keith woke up to a room nearly plunged in darkness. Only one tiny candle remained, its flame flickering. He stayed still for a moment, basking in that blurriness of the mind that came with the first seconds of awareness. During his sleep he’d clung to James, draping an arm and a leg over his body, and pressing his face into his hair. He could feel every breath James took, hear every one of his tiny snores. With the blankets covering them both, it was warm and comfortable.

Keith sighed, pressing himself closer to the other. He had no idea of the time, only that it had to be late in the evening. They still had two more days together here before they had to go back to the real world. The prospect seemed daunting suddenly. Keith wished they could stay here for a little longer, that they could pause their life until they were ready to go back.

Gently, he traced the jagged scar that ran the length of James’ back. It had healed nicely, though it had ruined most of his tattoos. Keith knew scars, knew that this one would probably bother James for the rest of his life. The skin around it was tight, certainly making it painful to move. James never complained about it though.

Keith exhaled and closed his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep. He liked the idea that they wouldn’t have to get up in the morning, that they could laze about for hours if they so wished. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply remained in bed for the fun of it. That had to be before the war and, even then, his mother hadn’t been fond of lazy children.

He drifted off for a while, feeling contented.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, it was pitch black in the room. He was lying on his back with James’ head resting on his shoulder. Carefully, Keith moved his arm so he could card his fingers through James’ messy hair.

“I thought you were sleeping,” James murmured drowsily.

“Hm. Just woke up.”

“Slept well?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Better than in years to be honest. Must come with sharing the bed with you.”

Keith scoffed. “How can you spout such nonsense even when you’re half-asleep?”

James chuckled. “I don’t know, it comes naturally I guess.”

Keith said nothing, looking at the ceiling. He wondered if now would be the right time to confess. The darkness, the warmth, the close proximity, the early hour, it all conspired to embolden him. It would be easy to simply open his mouth and let the words flow out like water. What was he so afraid of? After all, he did know that his feelings were reciprocated. For all he knew, James could already have found it. Maybe Ina had told him or he’d figured it out on his own.

“I think I’ve fallen for you.”

But James was already asleep.

-

Keith had spent his life thinking he wasn’t a coward. He’d believed himself courageous, ready to face any danger. And perhaps that was true; he’d never backed down from a fight or a challenge. He hadn’t been afraid of his enemies on the battlefield.

But he was afraid of James. Oh, was he afraid of James.

Afraid of how happy he made him. Afraid of how easy it was to be with him. Afraid of his kindness and his smiles and his challenging grins and of the light that shone in his eyes whenever they were together.

Keith was afraid of how much he wanted to be with James, of how much he suffered being a slave simply because it meant being with him.

This tasted like betrayal. This tasted like cowardice.

“You okay?” James asked the next morning.

Keith was a coward. He wanted to hide from that clear gaze.

“I’m a coward,” he said.

Bright sunlight fell through the opened window. Everything looked clean, pure, gorgeous. Keith sat on the bed, hating himself for ruining last evening’s mood with his long face. He couldn’t help it—everything he’d been running from those past few weeks had come crashing on him during the night.

James seemed surprised by this. “What? Where did that come from?”

Wrung out by those unhappy thoughts swirling in his mind, Keith had no strength to erect his usual barriers. “I’m happy with you.”

James kept quiet for a moment, his face pensive. “I’m sorry, but I fail to see why it makes you a coward.”

“My feelings for you make me a coward.”

At first, James didn’t seem to understand. Then, realisation hit him. Myriad expressions chassed themselves in his eyes. He stood there, eyes wide and hopeful, not daring to move towards Keith.

Keith added: “I don’t mind being a slave because it means we can be together. I don’t like _this_ , James. I used to want to run away. I yearned to be free, to return to my old life. Now, I’m not sure that I would go back if I could if it meant leaving you behind. I’m betraying Acxa and my mother. I—”

“Keith, please, calm down.” James knelt in front of Keith, taking his hands in his. “Look at me. You’re not a coward, kitten. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be happy. And didn’t I promise to look for your family? I want your happiness.” He paused, swallowing audibly and averting his eyes. “I’ll set you free if that’s what it takes.”

Keith’s ears rang. The world spun around him crazily. James’ fingers felt ice cold against his skin. He’d said he’d set Keith free and he meant every word.

If he said yes, he’d no longer be slave. He had no idea what he’d be, but he wouldn’t be a slave. He wracked his brain, trying to find an in-between. Could he be free and stay with James? He didn’t think it was possible; if he wished to stay on the barony, only the baron had the power to free him. If James freed him, he’d have to leave.

That thought scared him. He shivered. It wasn’t the thought of being a drifter with nowhere to go that terrorized him; it was the thought of being without James. What was wrong with him? Surely, being this clingy couldn’t be normal. When had he become so damn dependant on another living being?

James was looking at him, brown eyes expectant.

“That’s not what I want,” Keith murmured through numb lips. “I don’t know what I want, that’s the problem.”

“I think I know what you want. You want me and your family and your freedom.”

Keith’s face warmed at hearing this. “Hm, yes, that’s the gist of it.”

James smiled and sat beside him on the bed. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought too. Have you ever heard of Azra?”

“Uh, vaguely? Isn’t that some sort of mythical city?”

“It’s not mythical, it exists. A few people have gone. Baron Iverson wishes to send a reconnaissance party there. He fears that one of the other barons might try to seize the city and claim it as its own. I don’t know the full details, but I’ve been asked to join the group.”

Keith’s heart seized in his chest. “You’re leaving.”

“Yes. And I want you to come with me. It’s a journey of many months. Ryan, Nadia, and Ina are coming too. The baron made me the leader. I get to choose who accompanies me. I want you to come with us, as a freedman. You’ll be outfitted and respected like any other clipper. Away from the barony, nobody will care if you’re a slave or not. I know a few clippers from the Altea barony will join us too.” James smiled. “I heard there was a woman amongst them, a slave who was taken after the rebellion. They say she’s an extraordinary warrior.”

“J-James, what are you saying?”

The smile turned into a grin. “I found Acxa, Keith. She’s the slave of a clipper named Veronica. She’s alive and well. They’ll be joining us on the road. Apparently, they’ve been yearning for the same freedom as us.”

Keith’s eyes burned. His body started shaking. There seemed to suddenly be a lot of sweat on his cheeks. His heart felt too big for his chest. He could hardly breathe, could hardly think straight.

“S-say that again. Please.”

James pulled him to him, hugging him tight. His own breathing was uneven too and his voice trembled as he said: “I found Acxa. We’re leaving. You’ll be free. We’ll be together. It’s all you have to think about for the moment.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> LLF Comment Builder   
>  **This author replies to comments.**
> 
>  
> 
> -
> 
> [Tumblr](http://matty-macgregor.tumblr.com//) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mattywriter/)


End file.
